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Curly Grace posted in the group National Poetry Month
The Tenth Muse Speaks: Whispers Across Lesbos
She walks on the edge of the wind,
voice braided with sea and olive,
each syllable a spark struck
from the tinder of longing.Island-born, where the waves fold
like a lover’s arm,
she counts the pulses of hearts
as though each beat were a star.You burn me
my limbs betray m…Read More2 Comments -
Harriet-Jacqui xx posted in the group National Poetry Month
Fireflies Over the Somme
She led me to a lonely forest glade, where fireflies flew and faeries might have played,
The brooding sky was blood red, pure delight, the half-light glowed as dusk turned into night,
We lay among white lilies in the mist, she winked and beat her wings before she kissed,
Then whispered sweetest nothings in my ear, the…Read More1 Comment -
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Curly Grace posted in the group National Poetry Month
Lighthouse Wife
I married a man of the sea.
Salt lives deep in his bones.
The horizon rests in his eyes
like something he once chased
and never fully left behind.They told me the war was over.
The uniform folded.
The medals sleeping in a drawer.
The world moving forward
as if violence were a season
that knew how to end.But…Read More
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Curly Grace, what a great opening line: “She walks on the edge of the wind”. While I enjoyed reading the entirety of your poem, that last verse will be remembered by me. Poets, poetry, should never be “contained” or constrained. -Curt