Tag Archives: Poetry

New Release: No Peace After War

I am very excited to announce the release of my newest book, No Peace After War!

High Resolution Front Cover_6087540

There may be no experience more horrific, no personal trial more challenging, than a soldier facing the ravages of war. But for many members of the armed services, returning home after combat is only the beginning of a new, very different set of challenges. Facing isolation, lingering traumas, and unspeakable fears, these brave men and women struggle to find peace long after their physical service is done.

As the wife of an Iraq veteran and a volunteer who has worked with armed service members, author Claire St. Hilaire has heard a number of these heartbreaking, often complex stories face-to-face

In No Peace After War, St. Hilaire shares a collection of short stories and poems that give voice to these dark and difficult realities—exploring haunting memories, society’s treatment of veterans, and the true definition of honor.


No Peace After War is available now on Amazon in Paperback and Kindle format.

Reviewers are free to contact me at claire.m.sthilaire@gmail.com for a complimentary digital copy.


Button

Red Shirt_Fotor

Freeimages.com/Margarit Ralev

A loose red button

Desperately clings

To the lustrous satin

That tries to glissade to freedom

 

But he holds resolute

An unyielding recruit

His charge will not take flight

He’ll keep her secure throughout the night


Silver Band

GalaxyNight

Unsplash.com/Juskteez Vu

A silver band wrapped around my finger as I am wrapped around his

Gems sparkle like my eyes when he touches my waist

Thunder crashes down over my head

A tree gives way to the winds assault

A blissful lake is disturbed

Stars reflected on its surface shudder as a pebble crashes in their midst

Sharp heels peek out underneath a black satin dress

One shoe remains behind

Icy hues reflect along a glistening peak

Two eagles glide home


My Dark Muse

Moonlit Lake

Freeimages.com/Abdulaziz Almansour

Delighted, the moon revels in the dark night

Through the thick blackness, he saunters

Conversing with stars

They twinkle with delight at his antics

He caresses a river softly as it rushes under his touch

Then stoops to kiss an icy mountain peak

The snow caps may sparkle at his sweet embrace

But they do not melt

For those glaciers know that while my muse appears bright and gracious

His core is dark and cold


Yellow Eyes

Ilker - Cat Eyes

Freeimages.com/Ilker

Yellow eyes creep out of the night

Eyes glow in the perilous darkness

Silky black fur glistens in droplets of moonlight

Velveted paws glide over the forest floor without a sound

Sharp shoulders stop suddenly

Eyes widen

Muscles twitch and ripple like a secluded lake recently disturbed

Ears focus like radar on a battleship

All is still.

A tail flicks in anticipation as a driver would rev his engine before a race

A flutter in the trees – the starting gun has been fired

A lunge

A crash as weak branches and wet leaves give way

A flash of death in the moonlight

Silence

Yellow eyes sulk back into the night


A Candle for the Number

Free Images Laura Morariu

On this thirty-first day of October, I pause for a moment’s reflection

I take time to remember the forgotten

Not those whose lives fill the pages of history’s book

But those whom the ancient texts overlook

 

It is easy to read a number written on paper or carved into stone

Commemorating the dead unknown

No other life-story written out for the world to recall

Accomplishments lost – both great and small

 

But those numbers represent people who fill earth’s graves

They were lovers, refugees, dreamers and slaves

They worked hard, creating a foundation for a better life

They clung to hope through war and strife

 

They carried with them experience, knowledge and wisdom

They never asked to be a nameless victim

Their killers, tormentors, abusers have their place in humanity’s diary

But the innocent dead are lost to our memory

 

Even today we hear of the thousands persecuted and dead

But a far away number doesn’t turn our head

So, I will light a Hallows Eve candle for the numbered deceased

To grieve for the dead and to hope for peace


The Enchantress

Waves

Oh! Ancient enchantress of many forms

What stories your archive holds

How many souls do grace your sad collection

Enticing men to challenge your might

You laugh at their feeble attempts

Stealing men from homes on land

Only to throw them broken back

Still you find that you favor a few

Showing them your untamed glory

Enveloping them in your immortal power

You exalt in their strength of will

It is these, the elite, the storm embraces

It is these the rain stoops to kiss

Devoted to your beauty

Entranced by your charm

These are the men of the sea


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She reads books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live. -Annie Dillard

مدونة الشاعر مثنى ابراهيم دهام

مدونة شعرية تتضمن قصائد مختارة للشاعر

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