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Literature Text
Kiss me softly in the autumn,
For Indian summer's glare fades too soon,
And the wolf-wind winter
Is fast approaching your eyes.
For Indian summer's glare fades too soon,
And the wolf-wind winter
Is fast approaching your eyes.
Literature
Winter's Kiss
i saw winter dancing
nude
so i grabbed her
wrist
and pulled her in for a kiss.
with a sweet, slow
retreat
i swept her off
her feet,
and carried her down to summer.
Literature
Autumn was my first love.
October, I follow you -
from the magic lights of New York
to moonshines in Georgia,
until the colors dissolve.
The anxious poetry of autumn
made a memory of me.
Here’s to things I take for granted:
September blues,
chasing airplanes,
country road thunderstorms.
Unspoken words, unwritten ideas.
October, I follow you;
I thought I saw you on the shore
where the river runs through gold
on the last boat leaving the city of a hundred spires -
or perhaps Pittsburgh
(it was the lights I guess).
Here’s to the things we leave behind:
sunbeams in November,
letters addressed to no one,
poems, wounds, dead birds.
I’ve got that summ
Literature
before the kiss
before the kiss
breath tumbling from
parted lips like
easy mist rolling
over rocks in
the waves one
moon pulls forward
people for a moment like
planets closing on
tension for only
a second while
between them generations
of warring arise
pulled by the cosmos
closer to this pout
as a frozen
dance with leg
extended and quivering
on fractions above
a canyon of a floor
pressing on new air
refusing to collapse
as a mass of bony letters
challenges the bumpy road
to pull them from an open car
speeding curving hills spewing
gravel off the bridge to
hasty water beneath
dragging the haunted heels of
a summer almost finished
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The first hand written poetry in....a very long time.
© 2010 - 2024 MimiTrammell
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