Little White Dove

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Mantled in whispers of cloud,
Little white dove blissfully endowed.

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Softy embracing a heavenly tone,
Fly little white dove in skies unknown.

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Little white dove rise beyond the dance,
Through the power of a rhythmic trance.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

Archived in: Poetry

Little White Dove

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Mantled in whispers of cloud,
Little white dove blissfully endowed.

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Softy embracing a heavenly tone,
Fly little white dove in skies unknown.

Rising, falling,
Gliding, flying.

Little white dove rise beyond the dance,
Through the power of a rhythmic trance.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Lost – (September is World Alzheimer’s/Dementia Awareness Month)

Lost

Tears roll down her sunken cheeks
Sorrow falls from all she seeks
Memories
Where have they gone?

Silent weeping, full of dread
Photos stand beside her bed
Treasures
No longer mean a thing.

Recollections of a lifetime friend
She cannot comprehend
Inquires
What was her name again?

Misplaced images, shapeless faces
Times past gone, she embraces
Snapshots
Within a puzzled mind

Unsure of the man beside her lies
Sleep wont come to heavy eyes
Confused
Why cant she remember?

Dark hours bring loss and sadness
Barely surviving utter madness
Loneliness
Tortures a baffled mind.

Laughter echoes through the day
Someone brought a big bouquet
Mystified
Who was that nice young man?

Foreign words, vague identities
Now she speaks obscenities
Misunderstood
Unable to say things clear

Caring physicians calm her protests
Guide her through painless tests
Frustration
Why cant she tell the time?

Rejecting yet another embrace
To just become another face
Heartache
Mirrored in her childrens eyes.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

This poem is dedicated to those who suffer from Dementia,
Alzheimer’s
and to those that have been forgotten.

Archived in Poetry Mix

Mourning

Sixty days she’d walked alone,
counting memories along the way.
She stumbled every now and then
but knew she couldnt fall.
Her mind was full of images;
her heart was full of grief.
Too many nights alone,
many days that would not end.

Now she sits on her garden seat,
bought together one summer’s day.
Tears spilling down her cheeks
lost in a world without her Paul.
She knows her life must go on;
her mind still filled with disbelief.
With every breath it hurt,
alone, she cannot comprehend.

One day shell fall in love once more,
with a restored heart to give away.
For now, she lives with memories
that she cannot help recall.
His presence’s felt all around;
memories bring fruitless relief.
Worst of all, no doubt about it,
she had lost her very best friend.

Autumn leaves fall to the ground,
like her tears they do portray.
Her face stings with salty wetness
she wipes them away it with assurance tall.
Shell face new challenges boldly;
yet still, sorrow will not be brief.
Time will heal and life will go on,
and her mourning heart will mend.

穢 Chrissy Siggee – 2019

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

Archived in: Poetry Mix

The Smell of Death Lingers

The Smell of Death Lingers

The smell of death lingers 
It lingers in the bedroom
and in the dining room.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers
Odours cannot be shaken
it's everywhere I go.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers
It lingers on my clothing
every breath smothers me.
But, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life
Even the weeds share their aroma.

The smell of death lingers
Until life yields into death
to finds its final path.
And, in the garden 
it grasps the essence of life
Even the weeds share their aroma.

Chrissy Siggee July 2021

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Why?

Why?

Why is life like the ebbing tide?

The ebb of tides is never-ending

Devastation can come in one huge wave

Or glide you gently into the shore.

 

Why is life like the shining sun?

Its radiance never ceases to glow

Harsh heat often sets the earth ablaze

Or softly warms us on a winters day.

 

Why is life like the lilies of the field?

They stand so tall in their Sunday best

Winter winds causes them to tilt and bend

Or makes them dance in a summers breeze.

 

Why is life like a shooting star?

Sometimes you see it, sometimes not

Leaving a trail of light across the evening sky

Or gone in an instant, to be no more.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

From my book: Glimpses of His Glory

 

There’s Nought to Fear

Some things dont feel right.
Unpleasant confrontations generate a mood of sadness.
Shivers torment already traumatised nerves,
like finger nails dragged across a blackboard.
Yet, theres nought to fear.

Some things are not right.
Hostility clutches hold with naive dishonesties
and confusion creeps in with unsuspected lies.
Cold fingers of fear grip with malicious rumours.
Yet, theres nought to fear.

Some things are never right.
Malice and corruption run amok in a violated world
with greed and self-absorption taking hold.
Unpredicted anguish and hearts full of darkness.
Yet, theres nought to fear.

Some things can be made right.
Terrors of the night flee with the promise of the sunrise.
Integrity re-established to transform thoughts
to benefit the practise of honest, uncorrupted lives.
Yes, theres nought to fear.

穢 Chrissy Siggee -2019

Archived in
Poetry Mix by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

Me and My Writing….

I dont care what people say
Its time to look the other way.
If I want to write I will
with or without a copyright.

Poems, fiction and mysteries,
for children and adults.
Whatever takes my fancy oh yeah…
Its what I like to do.

My grammar may not be perfect
and rhyme is not my forte
But whatever I write –
I write with all my heart.

Grandchildren love my nonsense,
Friends enjoy a jingle.
I only write for them and those
Who enjoy my writing most.

穢 Chrissy Siggee – 2018

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Fading Cries

fading cries of restless birds          

                   linger in the cooling air

quietness rests like a gentle hug.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

From my book : Glimpses of His Glory – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Riverside Peace (the poem)

Theres something about a river
that draws me to its side
Effortlessly advancing
toward a lake or sea.

With abundance of freshness
its filled with life and health
Uninterrupted flowing
beyond the distant fields.

From gentle humble beginnings
– a fact of life itself
Amazingly appealing
amid a lonely past.

Whispers of the river embrace
the peace renews my mind
Majestically embracing
yonder pathways I see.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Rainbow Smile

I asked an old lady in the park if she had seen my little boy.

‘What does he look like?’ she replied.

‘Well,’ I answered, quite sincere

‘He has brown eyes
And hair to match;
Too many curls for a little boy,
Combed to perfection every day;
His teeth are white as white can be
A very tidy little man is he!
He wears a smartly pressed sailor suit
With little white shoes to match.’

A perfect darling is my boy.’

‘No child like this I have seen,’ the lady did respond,
‘but a treasure you will find, just around that path.’

Around the garden path I went
And before me, a treasure my eyes beheld

He had brown eyes
And hair to match,
A shock of curls in disarray,
Band-aid knees and soiled clothes
What happened to my little boy?
At front, he had a missing tooth;
He was eating ice-cream from a cone,
His face aglow with a rainbow smile.

’A perfect darling is my boy.’

穢 Chrissy Siggee

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED From my book:  Glimpses of His Glory

Archived in: Poetry Mix

Roof Top Dancing

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

There is someone on my roof
It sounds like they are dancing.

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

I wonder if this roof is dance-proof
It wouldnt be for elephants prancing.

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

Who is dancing on my roof?
Toward the eaves they’re now advancing.

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

I sneaked a peek to find the proof
To do this, it took some chancing.

tap, tap, tap
thud, thud,
bump bump.

repeat

There issomeone dancing on my roof!
It’s three galahs belly-dancing.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galah

穢 Chrissy Siggee

Archived in
Poetry Mix and Childrens Corner