Monday's Muse Poetry

Monday’s Muse: Second Chances

Here’s yet another post where a poem is just going to have to say it all. An original by me.

Hope you had a great weekend.

xo Jesi


Second Chances

By Jessica Scott


Life is gone, the flower has bloomed and faded,

is withered brown, and drying

on the stalk. Winter has sent it to its rest.

There is no spring coming to breathe new life into it.


But the seeds the flower created, hope in miniature,

They hold the promise of a brighter future,

Not for the one that died,

But for those who come after.

Jesi Kay
Jesi Kay, poet and aspiring novelist, was born in the Texas panhandle where wide skies, lazy summer days, and rolling thunderstorms sparked her imagination and left lasting memories in her blood. An early reader, poetry and mythology were her passions. So much so that when she was ten years old her step-father gave her his college mythology textbooks to read, which were full of classic poetry and more than enough tales to fill her romantic and inquisitive nature. Jesi loves reading, art, going to the theater, the romanticism of the Victorian era (but not the missing conveniences of indoor plumbing and central air conditioning), running when the heat and humidity cooperate, and cold weather so she can wear her favorite boots and knitwear. Also, she still has those college mythology textbooks, a little worse for wear over time but still intact and telling their stories to her. Jesi is a contributor at The Well Tempered Bards blog and at

6 Replies to “Monday’s Muse: Second Chances

  1. Mewling, eyes scrunched shut
    Tiny, flexing fingers grasping air
    Milk-spotted skin so delicate
    A crop of downy, silken hair

    Gathered in a wond’rous hush
    Breathing in the scented newborn
    Named for another who meant so much
    His love and spirit are here, tho he is gone.

    1. That is just gorgeous Liz. I’m here if you need to talk. About anything. My shoulders are big enough to to bear the weight if you need to rest.

      1. Thank you, I appreciate it so much 🙂 Yours just evoked in me the time my Neff was born. My Grandad’s favourite flowers were daffodils, and we’d taken so many to him as he was dying, replacing the withered ones with fresh so that he had some near him all the time, with their bright cheerfulness. And when Neff was born, there was this queer feeling of wonder and joy, and intense sadness because he bore the name of such an amazing gentleman who’d brought SO much love into our lives, and been just…incredible…and who wasn’t here to meet the new baby. It was incredibly bittersweet.

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