Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


2 Comments

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 aching lips- Everyone thirsts for something.

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

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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


27 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
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


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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 atop a bag 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


12 Comments

The Jagged Edge

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The jagged edge you
Straddle along the boundary
Of right and wrong when
Your sweat runs smooth as silver
Never to reside on one

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – May 27, 2014


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Night Falls

Night falls
So shall I fall with her

Though Moon rises
In the eyes of hopeful lovers
Moon is nothing without Night

Inside the gaping twilight
Let me hide, next to Moon
Who is but a reflection
Of a barren world
Which worships itself

I lie with Night
Yet I know no one looks for love in the dark
Except the fool
Who sees his soul glisten
Beneath the ripples of the sky
Where Aphrodite drowned long ago

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – March 13, 2014