Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


14 Comments

Downtime

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She was never any good at sitting
Restlessness came
When no one did
Refusing to let her forget
The ruin in their eyes

She knew best
How to walk, stumble
From bucket to can
As the wind cut by, wickedly
Unable to lift her strain

When breathing took its toll
She swallowed a penny
It went down smoother
Than the last ounce of hope

Now she sits
And waits
For a quarter

As they toss glances
And tip
Her heavy heart

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – November 25, 2014

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26 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


8 Comments

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


5 Comments

The Waking

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Somber
The scurry
Of dreams
Against the night air

Dawn slides down
Sky’s back
Peaking through
A garden’s gate

Her every breath
A burst of orange
And their feet on flames

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 15, 2014


4 Comments

For the Stream

Her final cry
Forces the stillness from the air
Inside their hearts

The nakedness of her back
Contours the water’s edge
Shielding them from their reflection

They look away
There is nothing left to see

Still, the fish swim in circles
Knowing not which direction to take

For the stream, it runs both ways

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


4 Comments

Yonder

Yonder the sterile splinter’s wedge of winter on a fence’s edge,
A foreign field of dandies fly, forging toward the speckled sky.
As hummingbirds in all their haste cease to soon the season’s chase,
And Sycamore shade, quick to press, against the seedling seeking rest.

Yonder the battered brim of cobbled path, tread by soles of many past,
There the mud awaits the flesh, longing to make the raw the fresh.
Tainted by the mounting grass, reaching heights that none surpass,
Twisting vines forming sculptures of knot, secrete the wine of grapes unwrought.

Yonder the sag of incurvate roof, giving way to gravity’s proof,
Stands mountains erect in all their might, bowing only to morning’s light.
Sunshine reflects off of sandy shore due to the cycle of tide before,
Seashells remain as the proof of past, that what once was will forever last.

Yonder the day my body dies and my brittle bones bid you goodbye,
In the fields, the mud, the mountains high, my eternal soul greets you high.

RIP Kelsey Justin Stevens

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – August 30, 2013


2 Comments

Satin Sheets

Satin sheets stained red
Hang heavy on the line
Winds they must withstand
Blow by blow by innocence
Above a muddied consciousness

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – February 10, 2013