Thorns and stings
And those such things
Just make stronger
Our angel wings.
—Terri Guillemets
poems
Alone in mid-night
Midnight, the luller;—
Midnight, the adviser;—
Midnight, the fabulist.
—Terri Guillemets
Inching along, leaving behind
The poet is a sensitive snail
wandering along the path of life
leaving a glittering trail of words.
—Terri Guillemets
The chaos-harmony of life
I swing like a kid
and fall like an adult;
cry tears of gratitude
and pray in smiles;
hug and love, and later
hide under the covers;
wildly and humbly living
from dawn to the stars,
and ever back again.
—Terri Guillemets
Ink to flesh
Ink to paper is thoughtful
Ink to flesh, hard-core.
If Shakespeare were a tattooist
We’d appreciate body art more.
—Terri Guillemets
Petals & leaves
i love to
smell the flowers
and sniff the books
sitting in gardens
and library nooks
—Terri Guillemets
Campfire
Campfire flames kiss the night
Stars in distant skies blaze bright
Ghost story whispers all affright
Rustling sounds just out of sight
—Terri Guillemets
Excite
Lightning dances —
Thunder applauds her.
—Terri Guillemets
Cracked
Her head was cracked—
not tragically, just poetically.
It’s how all the poems got in,
—and out.
—Terri Guillemets