All the mechanical noises, the thrum of electricity in the veins of my cubicle, the brief beeps of protest elicited by a misplaced cursor, the buzz of my monitor, printer, even the flicker of my digital picture frame, conspire against my creativity, damming the imaginative river in my mind, my…
58 Posts
All posts tagged Poetry
Echo
My finger traces a mystified trail From his nose across his cheek, Round the curve of cartilage at the base of his ear, Down alongside the thick artery in his neck, To the cavern of his clavicle, The bridge of his sternum. In our intimacy I realize I don't know…
Anew Again
This return to purity --a slow, redundant walk through mud I will always know-- is cherished by the most masochistic part of my spotted heart. The hot water bubbles and makes me think of gluttony --the starving man's delight. But rising again from the steaming bath my shoulders burn with…
Textiles of Santa Cruz
dark, reflective pools rest between the rocks damp afterthoughts left by the repetitive motion of ocean waves against a cliffside where concave pockets in the black, saturated stone hold the mud-based nests of soft, swooping swallows like hope between prayer-pressed palms…
pear blossoms
pursed white buds protruding from polyps at the clenched ends of near-bare branches like sweet nothings making unlikely exits from the mouths of prudish spinsters women disenchanted by a world's reckless spinning deigning to allow the hope and peace they knew when young shedding winter skin, though bloodless and long-rote…
a near-spring sonnet
one hint of spring heralds a chance reprieve jump at the chance to be less reclusive give chase to Sun's rays, bounding, so elusive allow his warm-lipped kisses up my sleeve we hum in the raw heat like black-backed flies awaking from a stupor cold-induced whispy-throated bird calls, i'm seduced…
love
curve of tongue around the ell dipping tone beneath the oh sultry vibration of lips on vee faith in the silence of invisible ee -Audrey Camp, 2008-…
heirloom
spilled pearls patter on the floor the broken strand which was once whole trails from between her childish fingers and the burn of shame crawls up her throat fans out on her cheeks. shall she drop on desperate knees and flail her arms like one desperate and drowning pulling the…