on the windowpane;
the shattering glass
sphere bouncing off
again and again
in the replay of that time:
of children’s beating hearts.
we don’t wait for the shout,
we run, paling,
into the leafy dark
where we collide with silence
and each other.
fear subsides, feet find the ground:
we learn to play football in the dark.
you taste like peaches,
your ripeness undeterred
by the tight o of my mouth //
it’s the first day of summer
or the last day of spring
or some other time, where the time
is right for falling in love //
and you taste the way a peach does
when it first falls to the ground.
the world spins
and the world is your oyster:
you are an artist
as a young woman or man;
the ice that glistens
on top of the river on the bank of montparnasse ;
you are the paris
of the rooftops and cinq a sept
and of the eiffel tower
shimmering brightly in the dark of the night;
you are the only shard
in the strong currents of your beating heart.
you are alive
and you are an artist.
the film just hit me. bam! result.
how had i forgotten that with art, it’s the aftertaste that counts?
you fill me
your tongue, your speech, your fingers
go swimming in my veins.
you make me feel
i taste the ocean every night,
the patterns of its seashells
still pressed into my palms
when i fumble for words in the morning.
i blossom like an orchid,
rare and podshaped,
under your gaze.
an open womb inside a girl’s young frame,
you are the love
of this life,
of this night
and the next.
we could eat oysters
under the moonlit sky
and nothing would change
except, perhaps, the taste in your mouth.
how many calls have you missed
¿y cuandos calles anduve contigo
como si estuve solo?
your touch would have been enough
if it weren’t for the look in your eyes.
and i guess that’s just it.
that’s just fine.
one day i will cry the mud out of mine.
drink me through a straw
and make me swirl:
i’m just a hurricane in a bowl
waiting to shake up the world.
there was everything and nothing
a spiral spinning phosphorescent blue, ̶
i see that world in you.
a wonderful friend who recently posted one of my own creations on her website here, has decided to beautify my blog with some of her writing. in her own words, she is “a freelance writer, woman, mom, best friend, daughter, sister, auntie, and niece” and in mine – a star whose blog i’m lucky to have stumbled on!
so without further ado, here is a taster of her writing:
she stood with fluttering in her
chest as ravine feathers floated
down swathing her in shadows
she knelt with quivering in her
throat as black tigers paced round
encircling her with yellowed canines
she lay with trembling in her mind
as sable butterflies winged their
way to her alighting on her with
then she slept soothed with silver
dreams and fancies flitting over
her bathed in moonbeams
© Pamela Rossow –> http://pamanner.wordpress.com