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Britt Walker Poem
Nymphs float lazily in the still water of the fountain
Frog less lily pads found in their beds. There is silence
In the garden, a sleepy calm passing through everything.
Above the rimmed water, lips of fish speak nothing evil,
Nothing pure trickles from the mouth of the mosaic.
The girl, her back to mouth and lips, is none the wiser.
Her eyes smile, as she lay her head down among the wolves
Their pelts a heady mixture of honey and vinegar in the garden
Half- verdant, golden brilliance. The sun watches her as she gazes,
Calmly and sweet in the garden on top of mustard and green.
Swathed in peaches and mangoes. Tired from too much play.
On the ground in front of her lay dead peacock feathers.
The rushes wait behind the marble ring, a silent chorus.
The finale is coming. They wait for her eyes to close,
Shutting off the princess' glory fro garden 'round.
Copyright © Britt Walker | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Britt Walker Poem
A lovers quarrel plays out in his mind
this midnight argument
in the shadows of the alley
under crescent moonlight
the cold damp air from the ground
sneaking around each corner and into every crevice
as he stares deep into those pale blue eyes
his reflection in the alley window solely seen
he searches for the appropriate words
he opens his mouth soundlessly
he cannot bring himself to knock
his heartbeat resounding in his own ears
he cannot make sense of these emotions
darkness closes in around him
as the fogs dampness tickles his skin
his clammy hands fall as night takes over
as he stands in awe of hiss unclaimable love
Copyright © Britt Walker | Year Posted 2013
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