Diminished divinity

Her Writing Haven

Her hair smelled of lavender,
and her skin was velvety smooth,
and I’d wanted to bask in her loveliness
as she stirred neath the purplish moon.

But soon, the luminosity faded,
and her body grew cold and gray,
and I cried for never being able to tell her
all the things I’d wanted to say.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/window-wood-frame-fantasy-full-moon-4670739/

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Roth Poetry

IMG_5020 (2)

Dreams are not like luggage

that gets lost when you fly.

They’re always buried in your bag.

They never go away.

So, as you age, and life goes on

thinking dreams have passed you by…

Dig down deep // pick one just for you.

It’s not too late to try.


I decided to post a simple poem from 2018 for open link night at d’verse.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com 




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The power of mindfulness

Rhapsody Bohème

I thought this was pretty neat as I stumbled across it. It reminded me of mindfulness and how everybody can win when we work together. We will always be stronger in numbers vs if we are alone. We will always accomplish more as a team, with many hands and a diverse background.

This picture shows a drop of water on a tree leaf. 12 ants have gathered to drink…what’s amazing is that the ants have divided themselves into four groups. This is to maintain the balance of the water drop from tilting and then falling to the ground. It is a science of ants to cooperate and divide the share of water equally among them and give everyone his right.

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What Is Happiness?

Source of Inspiration


What is happiness?
Is it a single moment
of pleasure
here then quickly gone
to be replace by pursuit again?

Perhaps happiness
is a way of being
a state of grace
where one feels
where laughter
comes easily
tears, too, though
they do not linger.

embraces life
a way of being
not a destination at all.

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The Trail

Source of Inspiration

dancing in forest

A cow path meanders
through the floresta
opening a trail for me.
Quiet beauty surrounds me
as I slip away into
a world free of man’s
bedlam, noise and pollution.

Orchids, parrots, monkeys
in the trees. Tiny flowers
peeking out from hidden lairs
breezes whisper through
foliage rich in diversity.

Sun dapples my face
as I dance in a clearing
hips swaying to an inner
rhythm, one with all
that surrounds me
safe in the arms
of the Queen of the Floresta
home at last
home of the heart
I am free

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