Indigo
Indigo is the color of clear tears
against the moonlit night sky,
mixed with unpleasant realities.
You left the painting behind
which stabbed a heart
already beating with indigo
And indigo fell on a morning,
dismal with autumn fog,
on a sweater full of faded indigo.
The music,
baroque, and full of indigo,
draws more of the same
to fill the room and the morning,
full of clear indigo choices,
dances
with moisture,
clear droplets of choice;
choices
filled with indigo
Indigo is the color of clear tears
against the moonlit night sky,
mixed with unpleasant realities.
You left the painting behind
which stabbed a heart
already beating with indigo
And indigo fell on a morning,
dismal with autumn fog,
on a sweater full of faded indigo.
The music,
baroque, and full of indigo,
draws more of the same
to fill the room and the morning,
full of clear indigo choices,
dances
with moisture,
clear droplets of choice;
choices
filled with indigo
I Was Stopped By a Poem
“There’s a magic in Cathyann Fisher’s lines. She captures the Mystery,
holds it in awe for one breathtaking instant, then releases it to flee back to
the wild. These are poems that will transform the way you look at your world.
Great reading!” - Hal Zina Bennett, Ph.D. Author of over 20 books,
including Write From the Heart: Unleashing the Power of Your Creativity.
“Cathyann’s poetry resonates with the parallels of our emotional rites of
passage and the fierce struggles of Mother Nature’s cycles. She climbs
inside the words, baring her soul to expose the vulnerability, turmoil, and
determination that we all feel while facing the challenges of our daily lives. An
extraordinary expression of feminine energy!” – Vicky Chaves, Co-Editor
& Publisher of Fertile Ground
In a world where self-reflection too often becomes simple narcissism,
Cathyann Fisher’s poems draw the reader into a realm beyond simple ego
into connection with the greater mysteries. A talented poet, she leads us
further and deeper with each word – one can almost get lost in her words.
Recommended for poetry lovers.” - Anne Newkirk Niven, Editor &
Publisher of SageWoman
holds it in awe for one breathtaking instant, then releases it to flee back to
the wild. These are poems that will transform the way you look at your world.
Great reading!” - Hal Zina Bennett, Ph.D. Author of over 20 books,
including Write From the Heart: Unleashing the Power of Your Creativity.
“Cathyann’s poetry resonates with the parallels of our emotional rites of
passage and the fierce struggles of Mother Nature’s cycles. She climbs
inside the words, baring her soul to expose the vulnerability, turmoil, and
determination that we all feel while facing the challenges of our daily lives. An
extraordinary expression of feminine energy!” – Vicky Chaves, Co-Editor
& Publisher of Fertile Ground
In a world where self-reflection too often becomes simple narcissism,
Cathyann Fisher’s poems draw the reader into a realm beyond simple ego
into connection with the greater mysteries. A talented poet, she leads us
further and deeper with each word – one can almost get lost in her words.
Recommended for poetry lovers.” - Anne Newkirk Niven, Editor &
Publisher of SageWoman
Spring Rain
Spring rain is refreshing to crazy skin.
If I were not amongst the civilized
I would remove my shirt,
let the large drops
fall heavy upon my breasts.
The sky inhales deeply before intensity.
Rain dancing, relentless,
no longer dropping from the heavens,
but forcing its presence to the ground
who must receive it in whatever form:
bouncing, splashing absorbing...
Cars no longer motivate in solid sound.
Tires hissssss and splasshhh,
forcing their presence in physics,
remote on a nearby road.
The lull gains momentum once again.
Moisture. Only moisture.
From a window.
Reminiscing a view.
Wait. I must wait.
The joined cells demand
the re-arranged air.
Spring rain is refreshing to crazy skin.
If I were not amongst the civilized
I would remove my shirt,
let the large drops
fall heavy upon my breasts.
The sky inhales deeply before intensity.
Rain dancing, relentless,
no longer dropping from the heavens,
but forcing its presence to the ground
who must receive it in whatever form:
bouncing, splashing absorbing...
Cars no longer motivate in solid sound.
Tires hissssss and splasshhh,
forcing their presence in physics,
remote on a nearby road.
The lull gains momentum once again.
Moisture. Only moisture.
From a window.
Reminiscing a view.
Wait. I must wait.
The joined cells demand
the re-arranged air.
The Kiss
What Was it Like?
Poetry Collections
Amethyst & Emerald Publishing
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Straws and Bridges
Choice
Nocturnal