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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


Justice Denied

I believe there must be
a marketplace on the
outskirts of Earth
where some murderers have
haggled with Fate
and bought themselves
glorious furloughs
through life.

I like to think they taste
blood when they sip their Merlot
and hear blood in the rain
that labors for them at night,
but I know they are the
most merciful creatures--
to the bodies they live in.

And the sun and the earth see
them no differently and they
dream the dreams of conquerors
between antiseptic sheets.

They are the ocean:
never knowing defeat,
the beautiful devourer,
possessor of secrets and skies
that fall to earth.

Their payment is in the afterlife,
you say.
I saw the afterlife once.
In a thunderstorm:
Darkness one moment and
the next, light branded the sky.
A glimpse of serpents tongue
and I took a half-second journey
on its trail of flame
and I was frozen in a
land of light and myths.

Then darkness again.

And I felt foolish for
doubting that it happens.
It comes:
the end.
It comes but always tomorrow.

Now is a very generous
idol to those who sell
their tomorrows.

Of course, what they are
given is sleep,
never the jolts of great pain
and great joy
and power you enter like
chocolate-scented, poppy-tinted

But still it is something and
something is so much more than
they deserve.

And you wonder if it was
all a joke--
these monsters feasting
then sleeping through the
pain they brought
into this world.

And for a moment,
you can swear you hear
the sound of champagne
glasses clinking
and gales of laughter rising
from the inner circle
of hell.

Patricia Joan Jones

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

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