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Memorie’s Ghost Child

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children playing tag ball                               
‘now you’re it!’
you can’t see me playing
at their heals a bit

memories’ ghost child
behind the tree
child playing tag counting
doesn’t notice me

she floats along gray shadows
today’s yesteryear
bare feet and laughter
mimic in their ears

they hose each other down
a hot summer’s day
while she plays alongside
age has no sway

after they’ve gone inside
she plays on
forever free of life’s cares
a ghost child’s song

© June 2012 Renee Espriu



Spirit Play

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Altered Google Image

my spirit plays amongst
microscopic particles
of sand sparkling
left clean

as the salty ocean water
leaves trails
of foam behind

an intruder…
but nought as it
takes flight drifting
in and out of wildflowers

as a honey bee
gathering
golden pollen
from within each
petaled wonder

taking with it the
beauty of fragrance
it once again rises

to find healing in
the sunrays
cleansing in
the raindrops

letting colors of
the rainbow
penetrate
to become one
with its’ soul

to wrap itself
in grandeur of
nature to embody
it all

my spirit shares a
moment in time
cascading
down waterfalls

smoothing pebbles
in a stream
catching glimpses and
reflections
its’ life
embodiment of mine

© November 2012
Renee Espriu


*****Bring Me Wildflowers*****

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bring me wildflowers
& set them
on the sideboard
by the window
to catch
the suns’ rays

for the petals
that dapple all
of the surfaces
like tiny pixies
set to play

bring me laughter
to eclipse the day
as the moon does
to the surfaces
of the sun

a smile to soften
the harsh edges
of all anger
a candle with which
to light the dawn

© August 2014
Renee Espriu

Image Taken From Morgue File
Digitized by Myself

 Bring Me Wildflowers


An Infinity of Stars Woven

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Within the landscape of time are
the shadows of war residing
casting doubts of fear
over hope filled integrity

for if I could but ease the pain
& erase the memory of horror
that slices through hearts
once laden with joy
I would

but there will always be those
who seek righteousness loaded
with weapons of destruction
their efforts devoid
of compassion

and soldiers who participate
on the battlefields of wars
whether at home or across seas
will carry scars always

and if it were possible within
me as a wordsmith to pen a poem
of salve and healing
I would

so that children may once again play
on peaceful soil under watchful eyes
of mothers and fathers
who can rest assured
of a tomorrow

filled with the spirit of love
& that fireworks will be celebration
& not the deafening voices
of bombs falling

for my soul cannot rest within me
until the vision of the universe
is the essence of peace shining
like an infinity of stars

the threads of woven fabric
like none that has ever been made
containing naught of the shadows of war
but a humanity of peacemakers
the gardeners sowing
seeds for the
future

© August 2017 Renee Espriu

This is in response to Jamie Dedes’s Wednesday Prompt. Please read more poets responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/08/09/do-not-make-war-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and digitally altered by myself.

Field of Peacemakers


“Oranges and Apples”

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A mother is what she needed
not a friend that played
jacks, marbles and jump rope

where she was left
to her own devices of
making mischief
with her brother

or watching a locomotive
barrel down steel tracks
to crush a penny
newly set
upon them

but her mother an only child
longed for siblings
for playmates
to fill
a yearning

so even as she needed
wanted a mother
oranges and apples
would not mix

yet her mother turned flour sacks
into underclothes and slips
for her sewn dresses
to lie upon

her mother cooked food
laden with the aromas
of love

pies trimmed in the lace
of gold brown crust
even when money
was a
luxury

she would surmise in life
that mothers do the best
with what life
gives them

© September 2018 Renee Espriu

Photo Taken From Public Domain Pictures and Created As Art

Oranges and Apples

Dreaming of Change

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Dreams live within our sleeping hours
touching our waking time
some slightly caressing
barely touching

while others create undulating pain
creating harbingers of fear
of longing and want

all innately attached to spirits
woven tightly inside our souls
like tiny invisible creatures
tugging and pulling
this way
and that

whispering changes in our ears
then shouting in our faces
when we refuse to hear

leveling the playing ground
like a bulldozer
passing through

for change always prevails
beginning as a dream
touching our skin
like a wisp of breeze

© February 2019 Renee Espriu

Photo Taken From Public Domain Pictures & Created As Art

Changes and Dreams

Hummingbird Mishap

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She had never seen such a tiny bird thus her first introduction to it was one of total surprise. A sunny day as always and she played outside as all that lived there from the roses, bushes and trees were enough to make her happy. If it were up to her she would spend all of her time there for even some insects caused the curiosity in her to grow except, of course, that of spiders. She learned to stay clear of them for she grew up learning that some were not welcome, such as the Black Widow, so therefore she felt it best to leave them be.

It would have been a day like any other, she playing and exploring but it was about to change and cause her wonder she had not known there was. Her father was busy doing what fathers did in a garage and she paid him no mind, really. He, at one point, set the sprinkler to watering the grass and she watched as he did so.

She would remember it always. One minute things were as they always had been of a sun warmed day and the next the fastest creature with wings lay upside down on the concrete patio. She marveled at it and asked what it was. Her father turned and looked down with a smile, walked over and gave the little bird a nudge with his finger. It suddenly flipped itself over and was off faster than a blink of an eye.

Heart beating excitement
a wonder of flight
seeking flower nectar

“It’s a Hummingbird”, he said. “You don’t often see them because they are so fast.” I stood speechless and marveled it had been so close.

© August 2017 Renee Espriu

The art piece below is one I finished to go with this story. I used acrylics, watercolor and something to increase the life of the acrylics so they wouldn’t dry quite as fast while I worked. It is done on canvas. Lately I am feeling rather like a chemist with my paints but enjoying the process.

Marvel of Flight

 

 

Celebration Every Day


Solitary Pastime





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