thesocialpoet

Archive for December, 2013|Monthly archive page

Baring Free

In Poetry on December 7, 2013 at 4:23 pm

Our bodies are breaking.

Our bodies are looking in mirrors.

Our bodies are crying to be touched by all hands.

Bodies lean to the side.

Bodies scream with wet pride and fear.

 

On Earth we are animals.

It is touch that places us here.

Not just the kind you feel, but the kind you know

with fingers caressing our innermost bones.

I feel the same fingers from before this body I am in now,

and again, and again before,

becoming each now and then distantly known within one common ground.

 

We are the infinite souls unbounded to breathe and fly free

so why not share our breath

and allow each of us to believe in our bodies as sacred?

 

We are made of the same dirt with different beats in different heats spinning with what

equally hurts.

 

It is the beauty in love that makes it all worth

baring our bodies to be scraped and purged

before that love becomes endless in the skies around us

and that beauty becomes faceless shining boldly beneath mud.

 

Our bodies are naked.

Our bodies are bare.

Our bodies are trying to be touched not by hands.

Bodies breathe. We don’t hide.

Bodies leave to defy all fear.

 

Sophia Elizabeth Cox, USA

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Smoked Crepes

In Poetry on December 7, 2013 at 3:04 pm

If we lay,

pray,

 

and stay

 

let us sway

beyond the Universe.

 

Let us go inside the grain

which led us to the flour of existence.

 

An internal path

which ventures into pillows,

powdered sugar, and

smiles

without

judgment.

 

Gregory Gathman, USA

Oil

In Poetry on December 2, 2013 at 7:13 pm

I was not sleeping, with my cheek

pecking kisses

on the slabs of a bench

when I watched you walk by.

I was not close

but twenty feet

from the eyes of your head, and you looked up

to be a pale, almost sickly sight that most others would turn from,

even dread,

and you made a glance at me as clear as ice.

 

It was oily ice

from your oily eyes sticking to mine,

spreading clearly

 

open

 

like ears being told what it is being said.

 

You said,

 

“don’t listen with your ears, but your heart.

don’t see with your eyes but your ears.

think with a head that could never be dead

and be weary of what’s fallen from your fears,”

 

and you didn’t even open your mouth.

 

So I shed a few layers,

and I sat up to watch you go.

 

You turned right off into the trees.

 

Sophia Elizabeth Cox, USA