Marguerite Anderson

Marguerite Anderson Poems

I come to a room adorned with whispers of time,
Where the shadows dance in a rhythmic rhyme,
And there, an old woman stands with a heavy heart,
Gazing into a mirror, looking at the crooked work of art.
...

Fleeting moments of desire in her bosom where he sought pleasure
Whispered promises as sweet as honey, luring the woman into dreams of forever.
That was until her belly swelled with life and he in turn recoiled at the sight.
His eyes grew cold as winter's breath, demanding 'justice' to erase his regret
...

In a quaint cottage by the whispering trees,
Resides an old lady, time's gentle tease.
Her eyes like windows to a bygone age,
Hold tales of joy and sorrow, written on life's page.
...

What do you mean
that my poems aren't Jamaican?
Were you there with me in Waterhouse
When hunger lick mi shut but
...

Silhouetted in the twilight of a fragile mind,
A tapestry unraveled, its threads confined.
Lady Aileen, once a fair maiden - a tale untold
-Now lost in memories, aged and cold.
...

I seek escape from this side of the fence where
Grassy thorns beneath my feet pierce my sole.
Scrambling, ambling, trekking to the freedom
Awaiting on the other side.
...

On the streets of Kingston, as the morning sun greets,
I see a Jamaican boy with calloused hands and weary feet.
His dreams in tatters like the shirt on his back,
Yet resilience in his eyes, on this rugged track.
...

Today, upon this stage, an actress must
Perform a tale of love and woe,
Many roles in past, she played and executed well
But in the hushed embrace of theater's din light
...

9.

Judas came knocking at my door
All this time his back was turned
And I could not see his face,
But he was beautiful
...

Many a man
make declarations of love,
But rare is he
Whose love remains true
...

She left home to journey along
the road less traveled,
She had no compass, then
But only the vision of her journey's end.
...

I sat to eat at the table for three
There was my mother, my sibling and me
And for many years-
before my dangling feet
...

Monumental woman of God
I still hear your voice before the dawning of day
Summoning the power of Abba Father
To keep the enemy at bay
...

Marguerite Anderson Biography

Freelance journalist, poet, lover of the Arts, educator, actress.)

The Best Poem Of Marguerite Anderson

Mirror's Cruel Gaze

I come to a room adorned with whispers of time,
Where the shadows dance in a rhythmic rhyme,
And there, an old woman stands with a heavy heart,
Gazing into a mirror, looking at the crooked work of art.

Her eyes, once bright, like stars in the night,
Now hold the weight of a fading light.
Lines etched by years, like tales on her face,
Each wrinkle a chapter, a journey to trace.

The mirror reflects the passage of years,
A canvas of memories, laughter, and tears.
She curses the image that stares back at her,
A ghost of the beauty, now just a blur.

Oh, how the echoes of youth still persist,
In the creases and folds, where time can't resist.
Her reflection, a reminder, a silent decree,
Of the grace that once was, and will never be.

Her fingers trace the lines, like rivers that flow,
Recalling the days when her beauty would glow.
Yet, within those eyes, a strength is unveiled,
A spirit unbroken, though time has assailed.

The mirror may capture the march of the years,
But not the resilience that silently cheers.
For in her reflection, beyond the lost grace,
A woman emerges, still holding her space.

She may curse the mirror for what it reveals,
But deep in her soul, a resilience conceals.
A beauty that transcends the mirror's cruel gaze,
A beauty found in wisdom, through life's maze.

Marguerite Anderson Comments

Marguerite Anderson Quotes

'Who are you that come by night to plot and murder my dreams? '

'He passed by to admire the beauty. He lingered and embellished the euphoria of its scent'

Marguerite Anderson Popularity

Marguerite Anderson Popularity

Close
Error Success