The Game (Poetry)

The Game
By Kira A. Moore 





The Storm (Poetry)

The Storm
By Kira A. Moore 

The wind


and Simple,

Of loss
and Redemption. 

What Never Was (Poetry)

What Never Was
By Kira A. Moore 

Hallow halls echo with emptiness. 
Memories and regrets
hang in the air,
dust from a past
best forgotten. 

Faded black and white photos
strewn across the floors,
reminders of those
who have gone before, 
to be lost forever.

Silence rings, 
a discordant note, 
where laughter once reigned. 
The voices, 
ghosts in the fading light. 

Shadowed silhouettes
dancing to rhythms
of discontent;
what could be, 
what should be, 
what never was.  

Faded Blue (Poem or Prose?)

Faded Blue

By Kira A. Moore


Each day, I would see him.

An old man in faded blue coveralls that were

a size too big,

A worn baseball cap, its’ logo long missing,
sat upon a wild tangle of silver white hair,
the bill pulled down until it almost covered
storm gray eyes.

His face, lined and creased,
weather browned and worn,
reminded me of an old recliner
mom hid in the basement.

His chair leaned back, on two legs, against 
the wall of the old grocery store, who’s sign
still proclaimed: “Groceries” and “Hardware”,
though all they sold now was lottery 
tickets and self storage space.

Seemingly as disinterested in the people
passing by, as his old pickup truck, that sat in the
space closest to the corner, looking as worn and
old as it’s owner.

Primer and paint, of faded gray and blue,
fought a battle long lost, against the rust that
has invaded in broad fronts, of oxidation and decay.

A spider web, beaten and torn, hangs in
determined rags, from the mangled remains
of the passenger side mirror. Its’ creator
huddling at its’ fringe, shell shocked, but 
unable to abandon the ruins.

I wonder what thoughts he had,
(the old man, not the truck),
as he sat there, in faded blue, watching.