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Here is a selection from my children’s collection. I hope you enjoy!

I want to taste the moon
but it looks like someone
already did .

I wonder what it would taste
like, if I could taste the
moon.

Maybe heavenly honeydew
or luscious lemon pie
perhaps a cool mint candy.

I lie here on the growing green
grass and taste the
moon in my dreams
as I watch the moon rise
to its throne atop a
twilight sky
and the summer sun
sink into its starry slumber.

I want to taste the
moon but it looks
like someone already
did.

C. 2008 Jennifer M Scott

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rushing waters
flowing to the
days of the setting sun

selling the night
as living
buying into
conjectured dreams
following days

deja vu
do it all over again

in the center of a
lush lawn complete
with perfect grass and
precise edging

a silver goblet
stained with nightmares
sparkles dully in the sun

deja vu
do it all over again.

seeing the same
dream every night
endless circuit of
one resistor after another

one day soon will never come

the goblet fades
the grass dies
winter rips into the air

deja vu
do it all over again.

C. 2008 Jennifer M Scott

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Looking into the mirror, I see not myself.
the person looking back at me
who is it I ask myself.

Deep dark eyes, and a feeling unknown, bearing down
upon my soul is a feeling, that feeling
one that I can’t handle alone.

From east to west and north to south
this strange feeling doesnt stop following me around
it confuses my plans, and changes my outlook
it creates a gap and has me yearning for something unknown.

A feeling, That feeling.
Is a feeling I don’t know

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Cool spring rain suddenly
Falls hard.
Mmm the sound of rain
Pelting the world around me.
The needy Earth greedily feeds on
The gift from Gaea.

It’s washing the bird crap away,
Sending it down to the ground.
Yet, this cleansing is bypassing me.
My mind is away at my soul,
Bit by crucial it leaving nothing,
An emptiness,
A void.

The more I try the less I am.
Because in this darkness
Even the night lights are too dim.
Where are the candles?
So I can illuminate in a soft glow
Remnants of what is there.

Just need the flint to start the
Spark to light the candle to see
What’s deep inside of me.

Slowly the rain falls to a mere
Trickle, coming to an end.
Ribbons of soft, white fog
Weave through the yard,
My mind.

And I am still waiting for my catharsis.

Still waiting for something more.

c. Jennifer M Scott 2008

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