Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


1 Comment

Water Into Wine

I knew someone named Jesus,

He kept a pebble in his sandal to remember he was one ounce human and two pounds God. 

When the girl with the alabaster jar asked if he were good,  

Jesus smiled, kicked free his feet and said,

“Yes, girl, 

For you have reminded me so.”

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – July 28, 2015


12 Comments

Love Song 1

You press your eyes against me
Deep breathes
Spiraling
The open air
We move among the drums
Where children play
They know no rhythm
Still, their music grows the sweeter
The longer we listen
And linger
With pounding hearts

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – December 26, 2014


13 Comments

Downtime

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She was never any good at sitting
Restlessness came
When no one did
Refusing to let her forget
The ruin in their eyes

She knew best
How to walk, stumble
From bucket to can
As the wind cut by, wickedly
Unable to lift her strain

When breathing took its toll
She swallowed a penny
It went down smoother
Than the last ounce of hope

Now she sits
And waits
For a quarter

As they toss glances
And tip
Her heavy heart

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – November 25, 2014


23 Comments

Anticipation

The universe spoke today
It was crisp and sound
I lost it almost in the thunder

There was no death
Nor any sight of a thousand herons passing by
Only the fleeting of anticipation

And for the first time, I listened
To the ant drown out the rain

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 29, 2014


26 Comments

Songs From The Edge

It was fortunate
The way his voice floated through the cracks on the second story
How could a voice so full of feeling glide so effortlessly on air?

She knew the weight of sorrow
She had carried it through the slums
As they watched in windows with discontent

Even the rain knows misery
Who else breaks rain’s fall?

It pours
As she picks up the violin
She knew once how to play
Before she lost all sensation
In the tips of her being

His voice rises
As it carries her to the open window

For a moment she feels light
For a moment she hears the music
From long ago

And the rain, it beats to a tune
As it strums her blood through the streets

(Dedicated to C, and his voice, which carried me to wonderful places.)
© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 26, 2014


8 Comments

The Prodigal’s Plight

He was born, only once
His one want, to want not

He learned sorrow in the faces
Hung lopsided on his wall
Of friends and family
And a stranger he knew once

When he died
They threw out his leftovers
With the crystal fragments
Of a chandelier
Which fell from the
Chateau de la Grange

And when his soul
Which had fled long ago
Glanced in passing
It stopped to admire
The picture of a stranger
Lying in a bed of bones

(Dedicated to Jobina, a stranger, who in just a few passing words, inspired me to write.)
© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 26, 2014


8 Comments

Poetry on Photography

DSC_0987-9

Purchase this on ETSY

She knew she’d
Never reach as
Far as her eyes
Could soar when she
Tangled up in him
And blindly wanted
Sky no more

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 22, 2014

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