Writing, Poetry, Short Stories, Reviews, Art Contests
A Fevers of the Mind Poetry Showcase with HilLesha O’Nan
The Rose Garden
I was the rose garden
that you left unattended.
I still bloomed despite the weeds
Wild and free,
I had to find my way through -
Every now and then, a passerby
would stop to admire my beauty.
It was the thorns that
kept others from getting too close-
even to give me water, I thirsted for.
I suppose I don't mind wailing for the rain
as I have weathered plenty of life's storms.
The Rose Garden II
You can't understand this world -
but just know
that not everyone abandoned you.
You often let the thorns stand in your way. I tried
reaching out, but I got so tired of standing there -
hoping that you'd see your beauty.
You always said Father Time waited for no one, but I'm not
going to either. Don't let irony get the best of you.
You were always wild and free
So why are you here
in your rose garden?
It was a lollipop dream. There
were monsters in their tiny
castles made of sand and
rattlesnakes with diamond eyes.
The paper tigers chased playfully
while the bears frolicked in the
daisy fields. It was a lollipop
dream. Where the sour hid behind a
The Funeral Man
No one knows his real name,
but they called him the Funeral Man.
Tall and slender,
with a dead stare, he'd appear
in dreams out of nowhere, in a hearse.
His skin was
Was he a shadow of his former self?
He kidnapped unsuspecting victims
and then would disappear,
as fast as he had appeared,
leaving a trail of smokey fog -
that didn't lead anywhere.
Who was this creepy -
strange dream drifter
While those who dreamed of
him didn't know who he was,
it was said that his
arrival meant trouble
was to come.
Take me back
to that night
on a cold October
I would have held your hand
I would have listened
I would have loved you
I would have danced
with you under the moonlight
and the blanket of stars
would have kept us warm
The Rotten Apple
She had an ugliness
couldn't see it right away -
like a slowly rotting apple.
Bright and wholesome
on the surface -
you didn't know what was
underneath her facade
Until it broke down
and she had wormed her way -
to your core.
Unknown # 2
danced with the moon
with the wolves.
Unknown # 3
She stares at her reflection in the mirror
Barely recognizing the woman staring back at her.
Time worn skin
Her beauty has faded gradually over the years
like a faded rose petal
dried and pressed -
in the pages of a book long forgotten.
Her memories are no different
sharp and dull
Scattered like broken glass
She then hears music playing at a distance.
"On a dark desert highway
Cool wind in my hair
Warm small of colitas
Rising up through the air"
A faint smile crosses her lips
To a memory that croons inside her soul
She sways to the music
and drifts to a time lost
Yet, not completely forgotten.
Young, naive, and in love with love
and a childish notion that time was limitless.
The Drunken Ballerina of the Night
The pine trees swayed
Whispering a song
to the night
A chorus of animals
as I drunkenly walked
deeper into the forst
with the moonlight
being my only guide.
like a drunk ballerina
Singing my own song
and the crickets
Past Parades Fade Through All Your Egos
You marched up and down
the Kentucky roads in your own narcissistic
parade. You waved the red flags,
but no one seemed to notice as they
caught up your broken boy charm.
No matter how many times I tried
to save you from drowning in your
thought, I always ended up being
the one to blame. You let your folks
talk about me as I was nothing.
Every time there was a problem,
You'd waltz right to your mom's apron
strings. My feeling was invalid when I
tried to turn to you. You turned the
cards around and I was the crazy one.
I always stood alone whenever I stood up
for myself. You let me drown in despair,
and the one that ended saving me was myself.
2 new poems/writings by HilLesha O’Nan : “In Patagonia” & “These Walls”Poem/lyrics by HilLesha O’Nan: “The Preacher’s Wife”Poetry by HilLesha O’Nan : “Small Town Hearts” “Two Wolves” & “Living with the Mirrors”
Bio:HilLesha O’Nan is a blogger, writer, photographer & marketer. She is co-editor/founder of Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art. She runs the blog tothemotherhood.com for over 15 years
David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof