Written by
Sharmagne Leland-St John |
I swim near summer shadows
glide over dappled shoals
keeping to the fluid shallows
reminiscent of the womb
where I learned to swallow
gulps
of tantalising air
in the amniotic sac
where I shed scales
preferring skin and
hanks of auburn hair
upon my head
where I dispensed
with fins and gills
grew hands and feet
with which to tread
and push away
from muddy banks
I've no desire to wallow
in the rushes
no human need
the thin sharp reeds
knot and tangle
cut and pierce
my derma layer
I can dance
below the surface
upon the rocky sand
I shall dangle near
the river bottom
suspended, floating free
like the embryo
I used to be.
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Written by
Sharmagne Leland-St John |
You never saw the spring my love
Or the red tailed hawk circling high above
On feathered wings my love
You only knew the snow
You never saw the prairie grasses bend and blow
And undulate like the shimmering indigo sea
You never saw me
Your eyes were closed so tight
They say you put up quite a fight
Somehow your life was over before it had begun and
Gently did I touch and kiss your tiny-fingered hand
Born too soon
You never saw the silver moon
Or the light of a summer's day
Last night I dreamt a gathering of eagles
Had come
To spirit you away
Born too soon
Your tender heart
Could not beat
To the pulsing rhythm
Of life's taut drum
Nikolai 1982-1983
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Written by
Sharmagne Leland-St John |
Her man,
A wild dark love song
Borne deep within her gypsy soul
He’s gone to live in jagged mountains
Where salmon jump and sing
In tarns
High above
The cloud lines
Beyond the silver moon
In the shadow of the Cader Idris
In misty mountains
Where meadowlarks are known to wing
And wild geese fly
Across the winter sky
He’s gone to live in snow capped mountains
Where frozen voices echo
Across the frosty fields
Across the icy meadow
Languidly, across the frigid lea
Then back again
He’s gone from her forever
This wild dark love song,
Her man
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Written by
Sharmagne Leland-St John |
I said coffee
I didn't say,
"would you
like to cup
my warm
soft breasts
in your
un-calloused,
long,
tapered,
ring less fingered
hands?"
I said coffee
I didn't say,
"would you
like to
run your tongue
along my neck
just below
my left ear-lobe?"
I said coffee
I didn't say,
"would you
like to
hold me
in your arms
and feel my heart
skip beats
as you press your
hard, lean body
up against mine
until I melt
into you
with desire?"
I said coffee
as we stood there
in the jasmine
scented night
my car door
like some modern day
bundling board
separating us,
protecting us
from ourselves
and lust
I said,
"would you
like to go for
a cup of coffee?"
I didn't say,
"would you
like to brush
your lips
across mine
as you move
silently
to bury your face
in my long, silky,
raven black hair?"
But you said,
"I can't
I'm married
I can't trust myself
to be alone
with you.
"
So I looked you
dead in the eye
and repeated
"I said coffee"
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Written by
Sharmagne Leland-St John |
by Sharmagne Leland-St.
John
There were dry red days
Devoid of clouds
Devoid of breeze
Sound bruised
My burning bones
Dirt cracked my hands
And caked my cheeks
No buds on limbs of trees
No birds on branches
No hope of rain
Scrawny chickens
Kicked up dust
Scratching for food
That wasn't there
In the stifling, stillness
Of the scorched night
We dreamt
Of cool oases
Tropical isles
Emerald bays
Not these dry red days
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