Winter of Discontent

Sad melodrama

Plays to disappointed land

Winter sans ‘jolly’

As frost patterns windowpanes

Peace, unity are lagging


Healing will require

Heaven’s army, top-grade troops

Rage, doubt, fear mooch faith

Once generous, unshaken

Sharp precipice imagined


Junk-mail media

Spews scary information

Educates with slants

Winter’s breath-held discontent

Worthy of literature


Disconsolate hearts

Peer through freezing rains’ dim veil

Encroaching snow clouds

Hem in mind’s isolation…

Soul dreams purple hyacinths

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Mark of No

Once, far decades ago, love was more than a dream or hope…it was an unscheduled expectation; a promised someday….perhaps even a divine obligation waiting to be fulfilled.

But evidently not for her.

No, on some obscure list her name had been marked through with a heavy black line.

A thorny-bracelet mark on her heart was seared brand yet oozing, gall wending through arteries up into her aubergine-clouded eyes, painting the message for all to read: “damaged goods, beware”.

She stands, back plank-rigid against the coastal wind, gazing undecided at incoming dark sapphire tide.

She could vow a million times that it doesn’t matter, “tell almost the whole story” to herself…but the sirens ever call her, a serenade of sea’s soothing depths.


Denise hosts Six Sentence Stories each week.  Her prompt word this time is “mark”, and she includes the quote by Anne Sexton:  “Tell almost the whole story.”

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Illusions Betray

Where is the brother

Idolized in younger years

Imagined hero

Was no exception it seems

To illusion which betrays

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Of Hero and King


Mesmerizing daydreams, old

Hero bounds to rescue

Aspect of escape

Faith affirms Christ’s

Soon return

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Seox poetry form:  6 lines unrhymed; syllable count ~ 3/7/6/5/4/3

Sleep’s Theater


Past midnight, during

Sleep’s Sahara hours

Dreams rise up as

Brain teasers which

Usually make no sense

Nor offer connection

Recognizable ~

I might close my eyes

Head on pillow, and 

Wish for a drowsing

Castle on misty cliff’s

Edge which would at

Least relate tangentially

To novel-in-progress of

My daylight life ~

Or perhaps a slumbering

Beach walk…white sand

Undulating palm trees

The face I love coming

Toward me…but the

Romantic possibility

Melts away, mere vaporous

Mirage…as, transitioning

Between sleep’s theater

And alert real world, my

Mouth fills with taste of

Pot-sticker dumplings ~

I don’t rest well, brain

Changing reels with

Rapid haphazardness

Fatigue is the norm ~

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.