Don't stick to your guns,
you doesn't have the licence
to possess them.

Every poem is a gemstone
Every word a jewel
Set in silver, or in gold
Our muses bring renewal.
They convey. They have their say
In amethyst or beryl.
They are Bisbee turquoise
Or luminous as pearls.
Ruby smoulders, garnets dark
Gems from 'round the world.

Some are facets emerald green,
Some are for our ears.
Some are fashioned for the throat
Some aquamarine tears.
Some black onyx pendants
To play upon our fears.

Rings to place on fingers
For friendship or engagement.
Some are placed in
Deep dark drawers
As tokens of estrangement.
But no matter how
They're placed
'Tis meaningful arrangement.

Topaz golden moments
Pirite is for fools
But ALL poems are diamonds

All of them are JEWELS.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/23/2020

I never have time to
Read, my friends!
The fact that tests me sore!
I am harmed, but not alarmed...

You don't read ME anymore!

😢😢😢

Looking at the moon tonight
In its half-cast phase
I knew I had to write of it
It in the cloud's soft haze
I stared into the golden eye
As if in a daze
I was sort of hypnotized
By its mesmerizing gaze.

As the mist around it
Shifted in its pose
The eye was mean & frowning
Over a demonic nose
Shifting still the vapor
Made the moon of woes
Look sad with cold tears flowing
In ever changing rows
Then it was kind...
Then it was blind
Then the kind eye closed.

Was this the eye of providence?
Which o'r our country's health
Once looked with kindness
Down upon
Our fortune & our wealth?

Now it's angry & SO sad
Winds there up high have breath
So the eye of providence

Closes fast in death.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/2020

Black fabric masks
Shark dead eyes
Angels & devils
Wear a disguise
The face, the lips
Are a surprise
What is Truth?
What are lies?

Men & women do the dance
For lure of mating
Take The chance
Whether China. U.S. France  
Certainly a strange romance.

To & fro. Back & forth.
Coast to coast. South to north.
We spoon & marry.
Give in marriage.
Party hardy. Baby carriage.
All the fuss! What can it mean?
Love in the Time of Covid 19.

There's only ONE question.
Who's to blame?
Eating bats? Is it that lame?
In the end it's all the same
'Neath black satin sheets

Love's corpse is lain.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/21/2020

The time of dad's passing
I've been restrained
All the day long
I've looked at the rain.

There isn't a smouldering
Hint of a spark
I can't see for nothin'
The rain is so dark.

The stormclouds are following
One on another
They tred on the heels
They're so close together.

The date of a death
Is when pain was born
There seem to be many
One endless storm.

The first major hurricane
2020 has seen
Was the health & work crisis
Of COVID-19

Then the stress on good friendships
Because of the news
People fussing & fighting
For differing views.

THEN Minneapolis
Had a white killer cop
And others stood by
As a black man's heart stopped!

Now, these are DEATHS!
We HAVE to RECEIVE!
Deaths of our innocence
We no longer believe
In man's basic goodness
No way it's retrieved
We must accept now
And we have to GRIEVE.

My father survived WWII
Lived 93 years in this mortal stew.
But now he's left... years ago? TWO.

When I was a child
Oh, SO long ago
I used to LOVE thunderstorms...

... what did I know?

R.I.P. Clinton Eugene Jarvis

SoulSurvivor
Cathy Jarvis
(C) 5/30/2020