"Good morning rooster
How do you do"?
It’s the crack of dawn
You cock-a-doodle-do
You sit on your perch pride fully and woo
Standing mighty and bold you call your brood for food
Sleek and graceful you do the cockerel waltz
Strutting vaudeville statuesque
Crowing to proclaim your territory
You stand protecting your roost
Busty and brave
Watching for predators coming your way
The alpha male
Your ear lobes and crown are blood-red like a bird of paradise
Your steel beak as strong as a blade
Your feather mane chestnut drapes over your back
Your breast fuchsia an emerald quill
Your silken tail an extended fan
You run free rein on my ranch
A thousand chickens roost in my barn
You rearrange my garden while pecking for nourishment
Eating up all the insects and brown recluses in my yard
In dust you and your flock bathe
You even watch over the hens eggs
Your calls distinct and powerful
When you are still and content, sweet singing rings
You are friendly to humans
And can even be domesticated
Stay here Roo
We will protect you
Mirror to My Soul by Heather Mirassou
A personal blog sharing heartfelt poetry inspired by nature, beauty, and soulful reflection.
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It’s Been Quite Some Time Since a Stranger Noticed Me. Do See Me? I Am Here. My Genuine Smile Smiling at Everyone I See. Don’t You See My Chiseled calves? Voluptuous Thighs A mile high? I may be over Fifty - But My Bosom Swings, And Skips To a Funky Beat With a Tip-Toe Skip, Hop & Dance That Only I Know. My Eyes Liquid Blue Stare Into Vacant eyes. My Skin Fair and Freckled with An Irish Pigment From My Grandmother’s Lair. My Limbs Covered from Head to Toe With Wisps Of Blonde Hair From my Mother’s Hair. Like my French Forefather’s My heart and Blood Pump By Wine My Fingertips Are Permanently Callused From My Writing Pen A Kaleidoscope Into My Soul Within My Voice An Accent Slung with Kindness Compassion And Love So if you See Me Dancing Down the Street On just An Ordinary Day Make sure To Smile My way For I Am Here Watching Dancing Waiting For someone To see me
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The clouds and moon
Has set my heart on fire
I think I will go paint the rain. -
Forever look deeper
Find Your core
There is only one keeper
Yet always more. -
Fraught in the wild
I hang on a moonbeam. -
Laughter echoing in the country
I pluck the Autumn. -
When I was twenty years old I spent twenty-four hours in labor with my first son. He was so large that the doctor told me that he would have to break his shoulders if I could not push him out. Two nurses jumped on my stomach after forceps and a vacuum and hanging from a bar did not work. With all the strength I had I finally delivered my ten pound son, Brandon Timothy Borden. He had auburn hair and looked like a three month old when he was born.
Six years later I would have an induced labor because my baby was so large. I was at my weekly doctors visit and he told me to head to the hospital. My husband was an hour away and sped his way to the hospital in a half hour. The labor pains were so intense the pain was almost unbearable. I asked for an epidural and they said it was too late. Three hours later, I delivered a nine pound, fourteen ounce baby boy. He also had auburn hair and was very long. His name is Trevor Edmund Mirassou.
I am most proud of my sons. Brandon is a forestry firefighter in the Northwest and Trevor is in the medical field in California. They are both in their thirties now and living amazing independent lives.
I cannot imagine my life without my sons. Motherhood is grand. To watch your babies grow up to be men is an honor. The true bond between a mother and son is like no other in this world. I wouldn’t give up the chance to be a mom to my boys for anything in this world. They are my sunshine, my ocean, and my moon. They complete me. They fill my heart and soul. They are my present and my future. They are my hope and faith. They are my fulfilled dreams. They are my delight.
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“I stray from my beloved pens and paper hoping
it is only a momentary lapse. I wait in solitary,
until I can once again chronicle human
nature with color, tone and transparency”.
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In the dawn of the world
women were given horses.
Creatures shaped from storm
and meadow.
Their hooves striking sparks
of freedom.
They rode not with reins,
but with whispers
their souls threading through
the breath of the beast
wildness answering wildness.
Love bloomed between them.
Not possession but devotion
a covenant older than language
sacred as the bond as mother
and child,
When a woman rides,
her spirit unfurls
and the horse becomes her
shadow,
her wings, her eternal
companion. -
“King of the Hill” you begin to play
You bump, bump, bump and sway
You see a perfect high landing spot
On an upside-down horse trough
You hop, jump and fly slowly through mid-air
Your small hooves landing easily on two pairs
You strut your stuff on the cold steel effortlessly
Showing your body strength and dancing dexterity
As you put on your crown and look up at the sky
You friends bow down from side-to-side
You are “king of the hill” showing off your expert dance
She winks at you way up top and begins her sexy prance
She pretends to hide but curiously you see her peek
You join her in a private game of hide-and-seek
She quickly finds you hiding in the prickly hay
You blush and nuzzle her chestnut face
Her body slender and strong topped with white angora fur
You rub her lovingly as she lets out a soft lulling magic purr
She continues to flirt winking her eyes with her head hung low
You excitedly whisper sweet-nothings she agrees you may be her beau
You rub your tickling head against her horns beaming with pride
You motion to her, let’s go play all seriousness aside
You join the other kids who are tryin to reach the sky
Together you dance and sway, jump, hop and fly -
I tap-dance on egg-shells in my ballet shoes.
They whisper across the floor.
Omitting noise that might entice a temper.
I find a hide-a-way in a hole.
My heart, soul, and pen are
controlling the inner-chaos
with a key that empowers me.Dedicated to those who have or who are in domestic violent relationships. You are not a victim, you are a warrior.
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A storm canvas can take you away
Thunderstorms and lightening
Tempest roaring high
Tumult of a tropic sky
Impatient as the phantom wind
Magenta jealousy
The earth summons
Wanting whorls
Invisible love potion
Dare to walk in its wake
Hands in the air
Clean crisp air
I become transparent
My passion dims
The cyclone whispers
Grizzly arms athwart the sky
I am no longer a slave to society
The breeze of heaven blows
Upon my soul -
Your voice
A golden spoon
Laden with honey
Dripping languidly
Your tone
A wounded sparrow
Searching for safety
In a bed of soft feathers
Your words
Paint vivid images
With indelible ink
With shades of blue
Your feelings
Naked, pure and free
Pull heart-strings
Effortlessly -
The aqueous moonlight
floats from heaven.
Sober hues and a tender wind
crisscross the sky.
A hazel mist melts the faint dew
below the sleeping willow tree.
The murmuring water lilies
awaken the eglantine.
While my white eyes are lulled
under a topaz canopy. -
My past is but a dream. My present, an insatiable appetite for life. My future, predetermined and out of sight.
Oh but to be young again, to begin again, to find me again. Who would I aspire to be?
Through the looking-glass, I see a mirror image of me. Free to be who I am with no preconceptions, expectations or promises to keep. Only a silent treasure chest of dreams only I can see. Only a panoramic view of what is the best I can be.
Perhaps, I would fly overseas and travel countries in poverty, recording adversity and atrocities.
Perhaps, I would study the stars and galaxies.
Perhaps, I would march in pride and diversity.
Perhaps, I would study archaeology, geology or history.
Perhaps, I would see Simon or Garfunkel in Central Park in New York City.
Perhaps, I would sail alone on the open seas.
Perhaps, I would visit my native France and Italy.
A dream is a dream, but through the looking-glass, I can see and be the best of what has made me.
I will continue to record life, love, and history through my poetry. My self-made dreams connecting in this irony.
Dedicated to: My sons Trevor Edmund Mirassou and Brandon Timothy Borden
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Forever look deeper
Find Your core
There is only one keeper
Yet always more -
Falling deep
Wearing down
Desperate for energy
I am beaten
A broken harp string -
Virgin Oil encased
Oregano, Basil & Thyme
Fragrance ascend
Blonde strands flyaway
Garlic Shards dancing
Swim in the wind
Pulsing Beef Stake
Red River Flowing
Seeds flooding
Tightly wadded
Expertly wound
Atop her head
Wasp-hive
Angel Hair pasta -
Is it a dream or distant memory?
An Italian Concerto begins
The alto singer bellows
A passionate tale
Proud and stout
He commands attention
A classic narcissistic symphony
Balancing a tight-rope
A thunderous crescendo begins
Drums rattle and roll
Strumming your violin
You tip, waddle and fall
Boom, Bang, Ting, Tang
A symphony of broken things
Your white walls marred
Sheet-Rock littered floors
By years of crimson scarlet
You know this scene by heart
This is your life
A dramatic melody
A symphony of broken things
You muster your courage
Hit your knees and pray
Picking up the pieces
Hoping his tune will change
You begin an ensemble
Piecing remnants together again
A symphony of broken things
Dedicated to women who have survived domestic abuse. You are stronger than you know. You are not a victim, you are a warrior! -
A sprinkling morrow
Drinking from the trees
Earth is cooling
As the sun is shady
A noble mood
The simple quiet
Of daydreams -
Monumental quill
Muses
Thee created
To write
Tongue-tied
I mend
Immersed
In poetry -
One coin
I will confess
Words
Unbuckled. -
Fraught in the wild
I hang on a moonbeam. -
When marionettes are dancing and prancing,
voracious appetites are searching.
Tumbling, fumbling and mumbling.
Blackouts imminent, guilty pleasures abide,
pick-up artists catch befallen angels and
pick up the pieces as morning arrives. -
Mother Nature beckons
Her brilliant cacophony.
Her pine trees
Dancing, swaying, and whispering.
Their virescent green
Shimmering through
Blue Hues
Peaceful and calm.
Mesmerizing
Her birds sing
A sweet melody.
White puffy clouds
Surrounded
Beams of sunshine
Benevolent to me.
Immersed in
Her enchanting beauty
She is bewitching
She is my company. -
From childhood
I have not taken my sorrow
I could not awaken my heart
To joy at the same tone
All I loved
I loved alone -
She bared to him her coveted soul
Prepared to be shunned .
Instead she is accepted unconditionally.
Her scars deep, he leads her to the light
A new journey begins.
He incites her passion, through his wisdom and poetry.
He helps her see beauty again
She must live again. -
Your message has been sent
She came to me
I did nor turn away
She told me of her thorn
I pulled it
She did not cry
I cried for her -
Her breasts translucent
Her nipples erect
Her hips wide and curvy
They smell of life
Her lips searching
He stiffens
His mustache debonair
She chases him as they sit together
His lips voluptuous
They know where to go
His eyes mesmerizing
Showing strength
Palm to palm
Waiting for her to feel
Her heart wide open
She opens to release
What he is asking for
They pour together
She catches him
She sings a love song of poetry
To the man she wants
He watches over her while she sleeps
She hums
And prepares the morning gift
Another day in love
She wraps her legs around his
Not wanting him to leave
He stays together for her
Their purpose
Together
Twin rainbows -
Your message has been sent
Let me lay my head on your shoulder
Lay me on a bed of roses
Kiss me
I’ll be wearing white
Sing me a love song
For I love you so
I don’t want anybody else but you
Love me and make me feel alive
Hold me close and tight
My heart falls wide open
Come to me and enter
Bring your magic touch
As I whisper your name
I will hold your soul
As we share dawn
I will not give up
I will be patient
I will endure
Give your all to me -
Barefoot and dirt-clod
I tip-toe across the yard
Avoiding mounds of stickers
Sharp rocks and weeds
The sky is full
Satin filled milk fluff
Moonshine
Full on me
Our tangerine trees
Rustle with low-lying
Bullfrogs
Ribbit, ribbit
A symphony of crickets sings
High pitched Beetle mania
I hear a distant “moo” from the cows
A latent “who” from the owls in the barn
The statuesque wind chimes
Is playing a cacophony of wind song
This life here engulfs me in it’s pure and rare beauty
I am one with the country, home again -
Tears are near
You can cry on my chest
My skin would take your tears inside
I would keep them
Take them now
I have never known such love
I never knew it could exist
I give you a place to cry
But more
Because on me, your tears would just be going home
You see I love them from within -
Nearly naked except
A dangling Marlboro cigarette
Expertly stroking his lover
Fingers caress a slender body
Methodically engulfing aroma
The sweet smell of sex
Swollen lips surround
Waves of rapture quiver
Eyelashes and eyeballs flutter
Sinking into oblivion
Head bobbing like a pendulum
Savoring his lust
Inhaling smoke languidly
Sucking every last toxin -
Like peach blossoms
As lovely as daffodils
In the purest hope of spring
My heart-strings follow each strum of a harp
Your voice a hypnotic melody.
I leap like a cricket
At the whisper of your name
The evening floats
On a great parrot wing.
I am comforted
With you by my side
I hold you tight
Like two twilight beams across the sky.
In the listless evening
I listen for the last chime of the day
I lie with you
In lavender moonlight.
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The insanity is dead
All red about the sky
So cold against the wind
This day shall flee
It is thirsty
It is wandering
Blurring at the end
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Your message has been sent
A sprinkling morrow
Drinking from the trees
Earth is cooling
As the sun is shady
A noble mood
The simple quiet
Of daydreams
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Leave the mundane and familiar. Let your mind, body, and soul invigorate you. Leave a watermark or tattoo.
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We are like a pendulum that is counting
the minutes until me meet again.
We are like sunbursts finding the sundial
that tells us when we meet again.
Time is a thief to us.
Though our love is timeless.
The moment becomes our future.
We gather in tandem to be close again.
Ever widening our hearts in the center of love.
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Your happiness is desirable
Privacy and a bed at last
We can’t be trusted
Ain’t monogamy grand
We love with youthfulness
We love with vigor
We respect lovingly
We love wisely
We love with insight
Passion with purpose
I want to be known by you
Absolutely at the center of love.
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The insanity is dead
All red about the sky
So cold against the wind
This day shall flee
It is thirsty
It is wandering
Blurring at the end
Mirror to My Soul by Heather Mirassou 