Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


There Came a Time

There came a time to listen
And I knew not how
My ear against the bark
And even the foolish dog laughs

You do not listen with ear, he says

I do not hear him
He is just a dog and dogs do not speak
I press my ear against the wet Earth
Alas, I hear the rushing sound of mud

It sounds cold.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – – February 22, 2014




Her faultless nectar courses through
The faults and the routes of my scars.
Reminding me that what once was mine
Is now forever ours.

Her view from the top sprouts fruits of knowledge,
While my ignorant roots keep buried in carnage.
Though her fall embarks from higher plain,
Our pain be still one and the same.

Fruit and Root bound by lover’s hip,
Taste the same on liar’s lip.
Passions ignited by clashing degrees,
Extinguish the same on wounded knees.

Alas, barren ashes exhale all spark,
Yet still re-volt against the dark.
Still, she and I both bear the mark,
The bite of his burnt, black, bark.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – – February 25, 2013