Saturday, January 15, 2011

Friday, December 3, 2010

A Little Girls Life

Sugar cotton, taste of candy
Pops of lolly, rainbow sun
Pink creamed ice, strawberry
Little girls life, just begun

Polka dot, heart of flowers
White petticoat, angel wings
Dancing around in penny loafers
To the melody, song birds sing

Up a daisy, down a daisy
To the jump of a rope
With a net chasing butterflies
Spring brings new hope

Kneeling by the bedside
Praying her soul to keep
With a teddy bear in arms
She drifts off to sleep

Dreaming of a world
Full of love and laughter
A fairytale prince
In a happy ever after

A little girls life

Patricia A Moore
December 3,2010

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Dark Road

How do I get to where I’m going
When I’m lost from where I came
Following the directions on the map
There’s only one, that I could blame

Traveling miles of lonely highway
Destined, still searching for a sign
Circumstance going terribly wrong
In bewilderment I’ve went half blind

Looking intensely from place to place
An empty promise far as the eye did see
Nothing appeared in my shadowed sight
Except, the dark road of emotional debris

Quick was gloom to penetrate around
In darkness, feeling my own despair
Caught by hours leading to midnight
Isolated, out in the middle of nowhere.

Patricia A Moore
November 20,2010

Wednesday, November 10, 2010


A foretoken given by day of Light
Descending through dark of night
Gray of ash upon the crest seen
Raked over coals down between.

In the shadows, reasoning of choice
Still and silent, as one with no voice
Fire was blazing with indignation
Roaring with the cry of damnation.

Understanding has gone amiss
Devoured in this burning abyss
Judgement echoes off the mount
For all to see, I stand in account.

Friendship once stood by my side
Fled with the wind, to run and hide
Partaking not, in decisions made
Yet it was not I, who felt betrayed.

Burned out by the fan of flames
All that is left, very little remains
Like a Phoenix, state of ruin I’m in
From ashes, resurrection will begin.

Patricia A. Moore
August 24, 2010

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Wildflowers Heart Of Gold

Customs of community, social behavior, unmet
Uncultivated flower, civilized, not as yet
There truth be told, she's merely a weed
Insidiously she’ll produce treacherous seed

The rose, the lily, ones of upper class, high prestige
Take preference over her and therefore precede
Forbidden to attend such a formal garden estate
In the wild you can feast upon her golden plate

Comely to some, but outcast, in the eyes of elite
Due to their exalted standards she does not meet
Gathering her bedding amongst the lower class
Happiness, contentment exceeds, expectations surpass

Her position carries not reign upon pedestals high
Nor does she seek exaltation in the platinum sky
Illuminations of life, destiny cries as a silvery lake
A silhouette, shadow brought forth by light to make

Beauty rides down the path on chariots of love
Grain of sand, a pearl forms, grayish white sphere of
Whispers in the cross winds of riches untold
Found lying beneath, in Wildflower's Heart Of Gold

Patricia A Moore
July 24 2010

Tuesday, March 30, 2010


Sleep was not to be, my dearest companion at night
I played the game, toss-n-turn, my bed I did fight
Why would it evade, does not it hear my call
Am I always active, not in a dormant state at all

Waiting for its arrival ,praying please make haste
But seldom will it come,leaveing me to feel lambaste
I’m a would-be sleeper, always wishing that I could
Communication with me and sleep,sadly misunderstood

I lay on my pillow, counting cute little sheep, O’ my
Remembering the time, I use to get some shut eye
What I think I’ll do now, is pull out my dear ole gun
Start shooting those sheep, that's constantly on the run

Would not that be nice, a leg of lamb or lamb chops
Then the sheep would think twice,next time, better stop!
Dancing in the air, performing their lovely theatrical show
Was delicious tasty mutton,over and over my head they go

Although we could get along together, plenty of fine
If they would quit running, through my poor weary mind
Whosoever came up,with the idea of counting sheep
Must of lost more then enough, Good night sleep!!!

Patricia A Moore
March 28 2010