Poetry of Love, Loss, and the Occult |
Master of the Mask Though I sit in contemplation-- Calm, crossed legs, Upturned palms on my knees-- A light rippling wind flips my hair Forward, across my brow. A slight disturbance, an echo of The universe touching me gently, A spirit of a breeze. My expression, it belies the truth-- A grimace that does not surface. Master of the mask. Reflective orbs, uncreased skin, Slight upturned lips... Who would guess? Inside brews a hurricane. Eyes open to the wind, Hands lift to brush the hair away. Gentle reminder of a raging storm That cannot be tamed, A rising force of nature. Dena L. Moore March 2, 2002 Master of the Mask will appear in my chapbook, Neptunian Illusions: Reflections of Spirituality, Creativity, and the Self. Not yet available! |
The front page poem changes every 2-3 weeks. All work on this website are original poems by Dena L. Moore and are copyrighted. If you would like to post any of my work on your site or in print, please contact me or my publisher for permission. The poetry on this site is only a very small sampling of my work. This page was last updated on July 6, 2003 Copyright February 2001 Dena's Poetry: Poetry of Love, Loss, and the Occult is Written, Designed, and Maintained by Dena L. Moore |
