Lisa Doesburg Poems

I walked along the shoreline leaving footprints in the sand,
munching on some Cheetos that I held within my hand.
A single seagull up above was keeping up with me,
and when I looked again, the single seagull turned to three.
...

Loneliness is standing on a crowded street corner,

invisible,
...

It will never happen again, he says, wiping your tear-streaked face.
You smile through the rain.

The second time it happens, like magic, at the door, a dozen blood red roses
...

As winter releases it's icy grip, and sun's kiss warms the ground,
my hands plunge into rich, dark earth, to spread the seeds around.
I tuck the germinated seeds inside their earthly beds,
and patiently I wait to see them to rear their lovely heads.
...

Cherry sweet and ruby red, lips on fire...
Losing myself in emerald eyes so deep, I drown.
Sweet and slow mingle, ancient dance;
when mouths join moist and tender.
...

As night chased the dawn, morning followed,
crunchy cold.
Treading upon the blanket of white,
bringing to light, it’s fluffy surprise..
...

Rainbow bright against dark sky.
Brilliant colors arcing high.
Storm clouds clash with sun’s bright rays,
light is splintered, skies ablaze.
...

Deep within the haunted wood, beside the magic brook, far away from harm or hurt, where humans never look. A meeting, there, was being held, for something was amiss. For someone had indeed snuck in and stole a fairy kiss.The one so bold, to do this deed, Stole power from the fae. She couldn't lift or move her wings, she couldn't fly away.

The water nymphs and water elves were gathered round the Fae, The Selkie and Siren sat with Pixies in the glade. The unicorns, were also there, for they had heard it too. The whole Enchanted Forest would decide on what to do. The stealing of a fairy kiss was very bad indeed. For that upsets the balance that the forest creatures need.
...

The graveyard still stood in the glade by the woods,
casting shadows against the tall pines.
Last words on a stone, standing off all alone,
in a tangle of branches and vines.
...

In her world of in between,
another life of hers, she dreams.
This place, herein, not life, but sin,
She clings to dreams that were.
...