Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


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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Reflections On A Rainy Day

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Outside my window stands a magnificent palm tree. One of its palms reaches to my windowsill. On a rainy day, much like today, I sit by my window and watch the rain bounce on the stems and slide down the leaves. I wonder, does the rain drop jump willingly or does the leaf simply let go? Perhaps rain takes a part of the leaf with it, like how strangers who collide momentarily in each other’s lives take some sort of wisdom. If it’s wisdom rain takes, it must be the wisdom it needs to grow into a palm tree itself one day. How else can something so small grow to be so large? I hope one day I too can learn from the rain and the palm tree. For now I am thankful for the rain and for those who have fallen before me. I am thankful for the palm tree and its courage to stretch beyond limitations. And at last I am thankful for my room with a view on rainy day.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – March 6, 2014


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The moon

The moon lies lopsided tonight
Her crescent: the shards of neglected dreams

It is ironic, that in the wake of reality
It is she, Moon, guardian of ancient knowledge
Who humbly bows her head and asks us to dream

For Dreams are the bonds which hold time and space together

The day man releases his sights from the stars
Moon will sink beneath the shadows of night
Never to return

I can not remember the last time I dreamt
But I know not a night goes by in which I do not try

As long as we dream to dream
The splendor of the universe will bring Moon to her knees

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – August 18, 2013


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Where do Orphans go to Burn?

Where do Orphans go to burn?

The children, awake as they shake stillness from their wooden cots,
Hide remnants of their ignorance, beneath the tangled threads of a shagged sheet.
Through the holes of what once a stranger’s robe,
Unfamiliar, yet the only family they’ve ever known,
Their eyes fixate on the twinkling sky; the only time their heads held high.
And the stars in splendor catch their disillusioned gaze,
As they reminisce a light that once was.

The children, who never sleep, watch the scarlet streamers leap across the crooked cracks as the fiery pit awaits its cue.
The roof, heavy with miseries, stretches its arms to embrace them,
Falling into the blackness of their eyes, it falls forever.

In their beds, warm for the first time, they burn.
Their only comfort; teddy bears with broken arms.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – April 21, 2013


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Enemies

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 – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – February 25, 2013


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Love’s Impaling Loss

I.

Late at night I lie awake, cursing the abandoned air,
Pleading to your soul from long ago whose absence too hard to bear.
What is loneliness if it is not my only friend?
Surely, loneliness is more faithful than you.
Still, she cannot give death to me nor she your going undo.
So for now, just one night more, I’ll wait for the return of your departure,
‘Til tomorrow night, I find courage to say,
“I don’t want to lie awake a moment longer.”

II.

You said you loved me––you lied.
You kissed me to steal the pain from my eyes––you tried.
You hugged me and I felt the coldness of your heart
As you bid your goodbye and took your depart.
If only––
You said you despised me––the truth.
You stabbed me to give the pain in my eyes––tears are proof.
You smiled and I felt the warmth of your fiery core
As you stayed to watch my blood hit the floor.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – February 14, 2013