I draw with silver 'till it turns red
Not on surface, but in depth
I draw in time, in life, in motion
I draw in pain and create art

I wither. I fail. I scream
I will not wake. Not ever from what awaits.
Silver abode and dark tusks.
No room for me. No room for mourning.

Sharp tongue and jolly seeming eyes
not aware of the deception
not wary of the sun that sets.
Because dentures and all, silver abodes
with dark tusks.

They come and find me. Not gold. Silver
Nor a gleam of a crown.
A gleam of parchment and sharp ink
for that is my silver and my home.

I open myself
Beware of silver tongues
The devil places
People in your life
Just as the Angels do

She took a part of me
She knew exactly what she was doing
With my soul
And I, young
Not jaded enough
Fell into the well
I fell into being used
But you didn't get much, huh?

She wasted her time
With someone who presented
Such a simple mind
But if she couldn't dig deep and find
The person I've been trained to hide
She wasn't worth my time
Then why can't I get this demon
From my head?

I've tried
Yet the memories
My brain rings embarrassing
Replay to me at night
Did I truly think I had a chance?
With 100 pounds of nonsense?
Sure, I tried
Forget that waste of time
In time,
I'll forget that waste of time

The moonlight.

It’s silver, it’s calming—it brings me some hope.

Its presence, though distant, is constant.

It lightens the burden of sorrows

until I am lost in these horrors.

What makes me – imposter? a monster?

I shiver; it’s frightening—I plead all to stop,

to rewrite—

the moonlight.

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

Green grass, silver chain,
a low, slate sky waiting to rain.
My Golden Retriever finishes her yawn,
sits up, and takes off like a shot
towards the far end of the lawn.
In one, long wave the fine mesh links
are played out until the line yanks taut.
The dog never learns. My heart sinks.

From "Bird's Nest In Your Hair" by Brian Jobe