Charmed Chaos

In weathered sheaves of light 
before gnarled hands can rest 
silver strands flow through as 
painful memories come to mind

With each tarnished grey knot 
spiteful deeds and dead lovers cry
remorseful tears roll down a lined face
frozen in songs of frigid twilight 

Pale ghosts of the past haunt her  
tormenting her languid soul
whispering for final retribution
for all transgressions done

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

Written for The Sunday Muse #177

Linda Lee Lyberg is a wife, mother, artist, published poet and author. She resides in Mesa, AZ with her husband Pete (aka The Big Viking) of 24 years and their latest rescue, Jackson “Jax” Lyberg. Linda writes various forms of poetry, as well as short stories. You can read more of her works at: charmedchaos.com and view anthologies containing her work here: Amazon Author Page

They share dark dreams and visceral prose 
While above a murder of screeching crows 
Binds their souls to scorching sin town

Driving a rusty winged cadillac
As they slip out the back Jack
When they can’t pay the rent 
On their one room dirt shack 
That looks down from the escarpment to Hell

Heading west to the famous Fremont Hotel  
Where shrimp cocktails are still ninety-nine cents
And they bet their last dime on black 29
In the hopes of scoring a big win

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

The Sunday Muse #176

Linda Lee Lyberg is a wife, mother, artist, published poet and author. She resides in Mesa, AZ with her husband Pete (aka The Big Viking) of 24 years and their latest rescue, Jackson “Jax” Lyberg. Linda writes various forms of poetry, as well as short stories. You can read more of her works at: charmedchaos.com and view anthologies containing her work here: Amazon Author Page

“glass will cut you every day, and sometimes you will crawl through hell

to feel the sun.” ― Ben Ditmars

Indigo twilight slides in with stealthy whispers 
While waning candlelight flames tremble and waver 
The jade bottle is empty and the crystal glass heavy

Closing ocean wave eyes, my dream memories come alive
Of fresh rain on rugged mountains, red fire in western sky
When we held each other close on a cold stormy night

The rough brush of hardened hands against silken skin
Running calloused fingers over my silken thighs
The haunting echo of youthful love back then, back when

We were whole, our souls an inner smoldering light
Of fresh rain on rugged mountains, red fire in western sky
When we held each other close on a cold stormy night

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

The Sunday Muse #174