All Poetry


A mare among king’s chariots,
a lily amidst the thorns,
She is a dove hidden in cleft of rocks
sheltered from the morn.

But cast one glance upon her eyes, 
and spice flows forth with wakened winds.
Come my love, to my field, he says,
Rise up and come within.

Lifted are plaits of ornaments
that shielded scars beneath.
Rent is the veil that guarded her
from vulnerabilities unsheathed.

She is a cluster of henna flowers
denuded by the Foehn,
A hearth dimmed, its fire quenched,
within which embers now burn.

19 replies »

  1. Dear PuppyDoc, Thank you so very much for all your kind support of my blog. You have such a good heart. I live in Central Florida. I long to find the good hearted doctor that I remember from my old Mayberry in New Jersey. I live in a gated community and sadly if the doctor spends five minutes with a patient, the patient is lucky. The medical offices down here are all owned by huge conglomerate corporations. PLEASE never lose your love for people. PLEASE never lose your insight to the core of the human heart. You are such a blessed person. You remind me of the doctors that I remember from my childhood and youth. They had such a good, caring heart for their patients. Sincerely, Richard

  2. This is a lovely, word-gorgeous poem, Phoebe! Sorry I haven’t been checking in for a while but I’ve been trying to get some fiction (longer stories) completed. I must say I’m loving your FB posts — and I not only click “like” but actually READ them, too (I’m always interested in health). Thanks for sharing those. And thank you for writing this poem. 🙂

      • You’re most welcome, Phoebe! The writing is going well, but tomorrow I start a temp online job that’s probably going to cut into my writing and blogging time for the next month. But I’ll enjoy reading your posts and your highly informative FB posts! Have a great week — hugs to you and Sam! 🙂

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