We only see her wiry hair
unknot, unkempt, undernourished
Her sallow face blends in
with the mould dampen walls
We know her dream of a prince rescue
in that desolate tower no more
If hope is what gives her light
the tunnel of time in her mind
is merely a paper clock illusion
embellished with sour milk memories
Author: Cassa Bassa
🇦🇺🇨🇳 inquisitive, observant, witty, a thinker, was a misfit child 😊
Lone Shadow
Moonlit Streets
memories are like sepia footprints trailing off
on those time polished cobblestone streets
lovers met by the bronze tiered fountain
leaning into the pool of silver moonlight
as the water cascading down
like a mermaid dress
she managed to shy away from his loving gaze
but the orange moon hung on the inky sky
turned her burning cheeks into a charred smile
left her pearly teeth echo the downpour of moonbeams
how many raw passion first kisses
how many lovers’ embrace
how many heartbreak stories
witnessed by the moonlit streets
Ben’s Chapbook “A Certain Sadness”
A real honour to be part of Ben Thornberry’s 1st chapbook “A Certain Sadness”.
You may read more of Ben’s talented poetry on Instagram @remedy.poems
Thanksgiving 2020
Role Model
Mother
you are a fighter
and a survivor.
Your resilience
is next to none.
You value winning
over everything
even relationships
in human being.
But
I love you
anyway.
Because
Mother
your role model
of strength
carried me through
life’s turmoils.
What’s Missing
She paints
the spectrum of emotions
on her worn out heart
She writes
all senarios of life
into her dreams
She forgets to live
to give wings
to her dreams
to make her
come alive
Tasteless
This is a collaboration piece with Spirited Soul based on a Poetic Duets Prompt – “Pick any of the 5 senses. Now, imagine your life without it, and describe it poetically.” This prompt came from Instagram @PoeticDuets
Beautiful green and orange chunks weaved through the spongy dough.
Aromatic toasted nuts gave that firm structure
like the solid brick work in an architecture piece.
When the baking oven timer went off like a diner bell,
my nose was overwhelmed by the healthy wholesomeness.
My mouth salivated in great anticipation.
As I slide the fork from in between my lustrous lips,
I feel the thick, coarse lump in my mouth.
Swirling around like dry sand when I chew.
Feeling like a handful of moving bugs as I try to swallow.
The kind that land inside your mouth after an enjoyable motorbike ride.
Early Summer
At 5am,
she brewed the Arabica beans
into its sultry full body,
let it stain and burn her lips.
By sunrise,
she left her pretty garden behind,
hemmed it to her summer dress,
full of sunshine.
She drove her vintage convertible,
bathed in full golden rays.
Her luscious dark curls
smeared her apricot gloss.
She kicked off her canvas shoes,
freeing her feet
from the opaque tan lines.
She dived into the turquoise embrace,
weaving into the nonchalant fish,
deserted the world.
She was last seen
in early Summer.
That season was reported
the most rain.
Best Weekend Ever
Christmas activities have prefilled my calendar
from early November to late January
Jesus was only born in human form once
His birthday warrants a marathon celebration
Of course I am not arguing that
For some magical reason
this weekend is complete free
no friends or family gathering
no kid’s sport or birthday party
no grocery nor Christmas shopping
no tidy-up nor home cleaning
This is almost a hard fact to digest
You look at me
I look at you
You blink
I wink
This is gonna be the best weekend ever
Let’s do fuck all
