Fatal Attraction of Books




Fatal Attraction of Books

 Centuries of wisdom and lore,

books upon the shelf postulate

and claim glory forever more.


Riddles, rhymes, and folklore;

epic journeys to anticipate;

fables of truth and charms de jour.


Fairytale, fantasy, myth galore;

ships and mermaids gravitate

hearts away from the shore.


Macabre, mystery, and horror;

death-defying tempts of fate;

villains, murderers, shady abhor.


Romance, drama, hearts soar;

relationships, emotions dictate;

temptress, femme fatale, allure.


Wandering the windswept moor,

books upon the shelf postulate

and claim glory forever more,

with centuries of wisdom and lore.


A closed form poem: Contains five tercets rhyming aba

       followed by a quatrain rhyming abaa

© Andrea Warren, June 8, 2013

Soft Whispers


Soft Whispers

Flowers kissed, by morning dew.

I awake to another day of loving you.

Hummingbirds all a flutter,

“Good Morning,” my lips mutter.


Bright sunlight and blue skies, another afternoon delight.

The love in my heart in constant flight.

Butterflies darting from flower to flower.

Intense heat has all wishing for a cool shower.


Daylight turns to darkness with a flickering starry sky.

Peacefulness and serenity a new love cannot deny.

Serenaded by crickets, gracefully playing a tune.

Soft whispers, “I love you,” by the light of the moon.


Love in bloom. Life in the arms of one true love.

© Andrea Warren, Sept. 13, 2000

Memory Lane

farmland walk

Memory Lane

Walk with me

down memory lane,

where your heart beats free

and your worries wane.


Imagine if you would:

A dusty, gravel road

outlined by acres of wood

and hayfields freshly mowed.


My mind wonders deep,

into a hypnotic state.

My heart takes a leap

and leaves all to fate.


I dream of our farm,

where we hope to someday live.

A home of rustic charm,

with gardens that bountifully give.


Where we all walk together,

as  a happy family.

Where love lasts forever

and life is full of memories.


Another picturesque moment in time.

© Andrea Warren, July 28, 2001

Lakeside Serenity


Lakeside Serenity

Come sit along the shore

of this majestic lake.

Where dreams soar

and peace awake.


A time for reflection

on all you care to do.

A plan for redirection

and the refueling of you.


Listen to your heartbeat,

as the wind blows through your hair.

Sit beneath a tree for a cool retreat

and protection from the sun’s glare


Each and every day,

you’ve been given this moment of tranquility.

Each day, just take a moment to stray

and mentally visit this Lakeside Serenity


Just capturing a moment in time.

I wrote this poem many moons ago.

© Andrea Warren, Aug. 15, 2001




The sound of spring

And the feel of a breeze

As the birds sing

And the sun thaws the freeze

A time of the year

That is liked by all

Brings sad to cheer

And a friend to call

As another cycle ends

And freshness is near

The new cycle begins

And we have nothing to fear

For time will always be

A reminder to us all

Treasure every moment patiently

Before you know it will be fall


Playing around with rhyme and the glorious wonder of the changing seasons.

© Andrea Warren, April 3, 2013

A Forever Literary Friend


A Forever Literary Friend

Who am I? I sit upon the shore all day smoking my corncob pipe:

a vice my adoptee says will secure my destiny in hell.

Don’t bother me with such drivel

I may not be educated from books or dress to impress the folks

or drop on my knees to pray for things that rightly, I will not own.

Who am I? I float on a raft down the Mississippi River:

with a friend in need and time on my hands.

while the river brings peace, the land brings fear.

I may be running from societal norms and rules

but I learn some valuable lessons along the way.

Who am I? I had a friend once whose head was full of stories:

but the long and short of it, he was no friend at all.

I was witness to many stupid ideas, trickery, lies and deceit

but through it all I found my inner compass.

Who am I? My creator, the author to my story:

breathed life into me one day and set me afloat

to stand up against bigotry, hatred, and lies

societal woes of the North and South.

History cannot deny my literary place on earth.

Who am I? My name is Huck! It’s mighty nice to meet you!

My try at an open form poem.

© Andrea Warren, June 9, 2013