Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


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Off the Record

You say a lot
I note my luck and keep even my voice
But you’re not listening to me

As long as I am
You’re summing me up
I’ll wait for you to take a breath

I gulp
Give up? I’m counting on that

You blush
That’s really frustrating

So, in plain English
Won’t you tell me?
Or would it be too embarrassing?

Lemonade offhand
I’ll admit to that

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – May 06, 2016


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The Jagged Edge

DSC_1122-1

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


8 Comments

Night Falls

Night falls
So shall I fall with her

Though Moon, draped in her glory
Rises in the eye of hopeful lovers
Moon would be nothing without Night

In the pupil of her eye
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 for the fool
Who sees his soul glisten
Beneath the ripples in the sky
Where Aphrodite drowned long ago

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

 


5 Comments

The Madman’s Sonnet

Her inscription is so delicately pure,
That I shall never dare once to read her.
Though my eyes with aggravation grind,
To peak beneath her modest bind,
My ego as stern and as black as the stallion,
Restrains all compassion untamed for companion.
She pleads to be touched; she longs to be opened,
Still my attention remains unawokened.

The shelf she shall stay forever more,
Her fore-edge un-sore, her pages un-tore,
‘Til the day she falls mute on the floor,
Then might her story I lust to explore.

But to do so would only implore,
That I would be bound to burn the whore.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – March 12, 2014


5 Comments

New Moon

A night sorely spent
Weighed down by blistered knees
Bearing the blunt of every last cigarette

Burnt is the dawn
From which time knows no return
As the moon lays her head
On the end of the dangling sun

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – January 24, 2014


3 Comments

That Day

I died––that day
It was cold––his breath
When it chased––the warmth
From my gaping chest

Eternal––that night
They were black––his eyes
When they bound––the light
From my bloodshot sight

Yet I––pretend
Passion mocks––the wind
When the heart––it bleeds
Every color but red

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – July 3, 2013