Edna St. Vincent Millay | I Know I Am But Summer To Your Heart

I know I am but summer to your heart,
And not the full four seasons of the year;
And you must welcome from another part
Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.
No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell
Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing;
And I have loved you all too long and well
To carry still the high sweet breast of Spring.
Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes,
I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums,
That you may hail anew the bird and rose
When I come back to you, as summer comes.
Else will you seek, at some not distant time,
Even your summer in another clime.

— Edna St. Vincent Millay

Anna Shakti

Anna Shakti Photography


If I Cannot Bend Heaven I Will Raise Hell

If I cannot bend Heaven
I will raise hell —
Attracting the attention
of the Angels to answer
prayers devoutly murmured
as the communion chalice
touches my lips, my thirst
to worship at your altar,
your redemption, and
your salvation
in your heart forever
to dwell.

— Violet

on the sea coast by Vilmars Katlaps2

Vilmars Katlaps | On The Sea Coast

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission
© @SweetViolettes — Violet Tudor 2017

Credit for Prompt ‘If I cannot bend heaven I will raise hell ’ to #MadVerse

A Little Bit Of Heaven

There’s a little bit of devil in her
Angel eyes, the way her smile
curls around her sighs.
He swears he can feel
Heaven when she
slips her fingers into his.
A touch so achingly divine
he reaches in dreams
for moments like this.
Whispers of salvation,
redemption’s psalm
in each ardent kiss.
A touch of forever
wrapped in a daydream,
redamancy, love’s bliss.

— Violet


Photo by Ammetrine.

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission
© @SweetViolettes — Violet Tudor 2017

Credit for Prompt ‘There’s a little bit of heaven in her Angel eyes’ to #MadVerse



Lost in a world
that doesn’t exist —
mists swirling around
the pages captivating
my thoughts and unleashing
powerful emotions of
I close my eyes feeling
the rain falling on my skin,
a sunshower falling
from the Heavens in a world
created between leather
bindings, I breathe in
the scent of the flowers,
listen to the birds as
I read the words. And as
the final words unfold
a sense of hiraeth
for a place written about
centuries ago in a poem.

— Violet

A stranger in the light by Helle Lorenzen

Helle Lorenzen | A Stranger In The Light

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission
© @SweetViolettes — Violet Tudor 2017

Credit for Prompt ‘Lost in a world that doesn’t exist’ to #MadVerse


Be Still My Soul

Be still my soul,
hold the silence
within like a cherished
rhapsody. Feel the
notes of echoes ring
in crystal clarity
and embrace harmony.

Be still my soul,
feel the cacophony
and rise above it
like a cloud kissing
the sky as the trees
tease with blossom
covered fingertips.

Be still my soul,
breathe the fragrant
music of flowers,
scented notes of
grace in gentle counterpoint
to the sound of birds
quelled heartbeats of peace.

Be still my soul, be still.

— Violet

Walking in Water arcadia village2

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission
© @SweetViolettes — Violet Tudor 2017

Credit for Prompt ‘Be still my soul’ to #MadVerse



I confess my feelings in a
flurry of words, my hand clenching
silk as I write, pen dripping
my blood on the page.

Confessions against a silk backdrop,
letters written on my skin,
I ache for you to slip the syllables
together with your fingers.

Scuplt me into your heart,
engrave my name into the chambers,
feel my essence running through your being
and abandon reality for fantasy come to life.

Cold stars staring down in the night
at my poured out heart,
wishes cast in darkness
still twinkling against a canopy of black.

Grant me my wish tonight.

— Violet

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission
© @SweetViolettes — Violet Tudor 2017



You Save Everyone. (but who saves you?)

Hiding behind a smile, proud,
unbending. Unable to speak the words
— or even write them —
to say what is wrong.
Unyielding like a tree in a storm,
blooming above the fallacies jealous people
drop on the ground like fertiliser.

The truth in my hand like a scroll
of justice but I never unfurl it.
I just stand silent with tears
slipping down my cheeks as I watch
the vultures pick off the paper birds
one by one.


Silence is cruel, hard, and cold,
it eats away at you in the night
until only a rib cage and a heart
pulsing in the middle of thorns exist.

There is no peace in silence. If lies
are repeated so many times do people
you love and care about believe they are
true with no defense presented?


Does the cacophony
overcome what is the truth with it’s
constant barrage of attention seeking
verbal assaults.

I let the silence go into the night like
a white dove, her peaceful wings soaring
into the moonlight as I slowly pick
the thorns that guard my heart and
turn them into a door.

There is no pain, there is only a
frightening calm and the absence
of fear. Mermaid curls dripping off my
shoulder in the cool Spring air
as I stare at the truth in it’s cold titanium box.

(Open it Pandora — set it free)

{A lone paper bird sings Mahler
as a Greek chorus dances across the screen
as unmerciful as Odysseus slaughtering
Penelope’s maids}

The night was soft as silk, my mood
like a smooth velvet covered in sequined
sparkling stars until those stars turned
cold, their ungranted wishes haunting
the night with tyrannical laughter
turning on and off like a neon sign.

It shattered.

Crystal roses falling from chandeliers
smashing into thousands of pieces
too intricate to pick up without
being ripped apart by the shards.

(Consider the flowers)

And I stand in the dark and ponder
the question:
I save everyone.
but who saves me?

— Violet

Do Not Reproduce Poetry In Whole Or In Part Without Permission
© @SweetViolettes — Violet Tudor 2017

violet in pink2

Credit to prompt #MadVerse for “you save everyone.
but who saves you?”