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Behind Walls of Data

In the Last Green Hours

Crucible of Light

Dogs (A micropoem)

The Angels of Hawksbill Mountain

Beyond the Gates of Orion

Sanctuary Within

The Sacred Opulence of Abundant Joy

Sitting With Stars

Light of the Tempest


Follow the Birdsong

Celestial Rite

One More Moon Beside Me

Legacy of Ash

Born in a Field of Light

Resurrection in Albemarle County

Dialogue With Silence

Moving Past the Dream

Deadly and Merciful Blue

Sky Full of Legends

On the Border of Earth and Being

Who You Really Are

Council of Stars

Scattered As One

Unfinished Bridge To the Infinite

Scenes from Within

Moon of Secrets

Memories of the Kingdom

In the Church of Ordinary Miracles

Finding Religion in Sperryville

Theater of Shadow and Light

Sapphire Birth

Web of Infinity

Voices from a Choir of Stars

Traveler in the Unseen

Into the Silence

A Soft Ascent

Through a Sacred Forest

Innocent Questions

On the Bridge After a Storm

The Sound of Creation

Your Song in the Ivy

Universe Within

New Empire

Another Afterlife

Where the Wind Lives

Another Kind of Prayer

Indigo Fire

Last Inch of Flame

Blue Home

Sacred Crone

What the Deer Understands

Some Water Lilies I Used to Know

Gates of Orion

Requiem for Yesterday

In a Moment of Understanding

April Snow

Symphony in Sable

Justice Denied


Graduation Day

Fire from a Distant Life

Frozen Retreat

Welcome Jack

Remembering Spring

A River's Chant

Shadows of December

Please Live

Unholy Love

A Silent Knowing

Morning Candle

A Multitude of One

Love is Now

Follow the Birdsong 2


Night of the Broken Glass, Revisited

Someone Else's Paradise

Canvas of Gold (A Tribute to Poetry Sites)

On the Edge of a Dead World

A Very Late Apology

It Is You

When Two Hearts beat as One


His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us


Shadows of December

I heard there were answers
at the bottom of
a lifetime.

That's too long to wait and
too far to fall.

In another life there were no
yesterday there were poems
and a forbidden earth to adore,

to float beside, as slow as she
wished to go.

I toured reality,
just a spirit taking notes,
playing human,
casting dreams
and calling it a day.

In the unraveled smoke of
winter, shadows carouse.

Shadows are immortal in December,
gazing through the eyes of blind fear.

So far to fall
before the
flight of reason.

Fields have folded into a box,
trees into a cage.
Medusa's hair is at war
with mist.

Too many battles and things
to untangle in December.

Money is the romance of
Money (ragged symbol of lost
or found hope) coexists with
Raphael angels.

Convenient, its nest
between gold.

Tin bells and smug saints
would have me
pretend that pain is sacred.

Let them fall prostrate at the hem
of frozen gods
for only a chance to win.

Their crumbs vanish in the
thirsty void,
impossible riddle,
a text written to confound.

Rigged game and howling titans . . .
that's all it is.

Every night I am resurrected;
the floor of heaven chips away
and sprinkles me like a
mass-produced fairy:
flickers of foolishness,
a beautiful lie.

And for a while I can take
the barbed wire of a massive
life and dream it into satin
sometimes even myths and
light shows

that must be returned when
daybreak grinds them into

But tonight, I greet this
prodigal joy,
plastic angels, plug-in candles
and all.

I salute you, oblivion.
I praise you in the shadows and
rehearse another death.

I am born in the
holy emptiness
of now.

Patricia Joan Jones

2000 - 2002 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors

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