Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


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The Descent

I find my balance
Atop the mountain
Where fireweed stops growing
And skullcaps run amuck

I follow the path forgotten
Edged from fallen rocks
Laced with Juniper trimming
Uncharted, untamed

At the end, unsettled soil
A most miraculous sight
I raise my foot
Unknowingly, my last step

The vulture swoops down
Looming
Half in the air
Half on the ground

Up the mountain I must travel
But first I’ll perch here for the night
And rest my soul for its impending flight

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – January 19, 2015


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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
To the ant drown 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
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


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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


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Something Blue

Spattered wine preserves
Indentations of his clutch
An indenture she shall serve
With a canvas for a frock
Behind a bouquet of knot

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – June 23, 2014


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Poet’s Lullaby

Lay down tainted one
In that garden you once sprung
When the world was ripe
Draped before your seedling sight
You dreamt beneath the shadows
Of the Begonia you so
Desperately clung to
When the world was sweet
And cradles made from thistle leaves
Rocked you fast asleep

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – June 19, 2013