Trio Poems 5

SUNDAY MATINEE

An afternoon at Tiffany’s
a three o’clock showing
a Sunday matinee

slid down low in her seat
buried in her baggy sweats

a tub of popcorn in her lap
a pad of paper lying near
along side a poets pen.

The movie begins
her reel spins

expressions play
classic tunes
of form and style
up dos and red lips

blends of matching words
thoughts in rhyming flow

sways of sparkling bling
united in moving strings
mirrors of dancing wings

hanging off the balcony
on the second floor.

The words of ones own breath.
can they be measured
by you or me?

what is good poetry?

©River 2/11

~

FRUSTRATION

She writes of love and tortured souls
until her fingertips bleed red
her works unfinished full of holes

She writes of love and tortured souls
life draining from her sickled scrolls
frustrated tears, diamonds of lead

she writes of love and tortured souls
until her fingertips are dead

©Shan Elllis

~

I LOVE YOU

I look forward

trying not to let these words

be my Sodom and Gomorrah.

Unaware of divine annihilation,

I search for faith, even a slight shard.

Walking with the one that fits,

all things drop into this desert discard.

With eyes resting on his face

cracked feet inspired to walk on

towards this hinted place

knowing stories of the past

put me at a fault

that could dissovle me

into a pillar of salt.

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