Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


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Forbidden Love

He saw the perfect picture of a story he could never tell. Not because he couldn’t pen the words, but because he alone could understand. This was his curse. To live with such magnificence, yet unable to share it. His vision-those black eyes so full of wonder-they were his beauty. The world would never see it.

I loved him because he was corrupt. Because there was something evil within him, a force to be wreckened with. We all hide secrets from each other. Secrets only the night knows. He was mine. I look into the mirror and see only his eyes staring back. If I listen long enough, I can hear something other than my fears.

It’s not just the heat that turns people crazy. It’s the sound of the bugs that accompanies it. A slow, steady, pulse that heaves and scratches, digging into your skin. The salty moisture of the air on your cracked lips- Everyone thirsts for something.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – January 07, 2018

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Relic

Kids in a museum
Are volcanoes just the Earth sighing?

We bow to our delusions
So we might touch the marble statues

A universe on display
And I am in awe to witness their laughter

This spectacle is prehistoric

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 15, 2016


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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


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In Love

Tomorrow–
In her heavy stupor
Without–burning–violently–
Could finally wrap the heat
For curling into a ball
Small shudders

Full of nothing
But consciousness

Positive–
Gradually
In love–

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – October 07, 2014


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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
As the ant drowned out the rain

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


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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
Carrying her to the open window

She feels light
As the music from long ago

And the rain, it jolts to a beat
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