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Featured Poetess: Jennifer Brinn


The Waiting Room

Skinned knee on Sunday
yellow dress waiting for a party
that is always tomorrow.
Disco afternoons
traveling through open car windows
along with breezes across southeastern pastures
silvery egret flashes across thunderous sky
dancing with lightening.
Love dances on horizons,
yet still to be reached
heart always open,
yet never captured.
I am tired
of apologies
excuses
 of the why you can'ts
yet long for you in my wonderous life
like spilled chocolate milk,
I'm not to cry over.
Do I close?
I run like hell
I look forward and run from the backward
and I am at the crossroads
shoulders high
heart half-mast
eyes blank
with watery vigilance.
Forward is all that is known
somewhere between the ordinary
and the extra
dazed sunrise cheeks and blistered sunset eyes
where is reality?
where is home.

EVE WAS FRAMED

Eve
Your crimson mouth
Stretches and splits
Expanding even more
To arrest this apple.
Hands tethered
By man's will-God's will
To tame you
To tie you
To fuse your root
your voice a faint murmur
Your jade eyes fly
Swimming into indigo seas
Dancing with egrets
Drinking champagne light
From heavenly clouds 
Trail your fingers
Through the swirl of freedom
While your toes are staked
To the mother
From whom you were born. 
Yet they tell you
You were born from your father
"Divinity only has one home"
Their welcome mat deceives its visitors
Drifters
Wanderers
Wonderers 
Your chanting heart invites shrouded peace
And luminous love
To tango under the moonlight of your soul. 
Wisdom whispers into your ears
And you know
You know
You feel your place in this world.


NEW LOVE

And so,
you are here
arriving in dusk's overcoat
My hope is
for the warmth of my heart
and belly
to wrap you
My hope is
that you allow reception
of these gifts. 
My hands are spotting
silver lining my temples
like that of every cloud;
inhabiting this body
its ocean commands. 
An old lover passes by
in the muted spangle of the day
and I know,
I am ready,
for forward. 
As dawn's sky ambles towards
Pacific waters,
I amble closer
to my truest heart
and realize
you are inside. 
And so,
you are here
waking in pinkest hues
I spy dewy morning in
your turquoise eyes
the line of my mouth arcs up
towards the eastern corner
and
I breathe. 

~~~~~~~~~~

BIO: Jennifer is a Reiki practitioner and Holistic Massage Therapist in San Francisco and has been writing and speaking her poetry for 15 years. She studied Creative Writing at SFSU and is always fine tuning the art. Her writing sparks from an inspired line or lingering word and seems to free flow from there.

Musings
 
 

Art is not so much expressing oneself, as it is discovering oneself.
- Anawanitia

The only thing better than singing is more singing.
- Ella Fitzgerald

Stop. Breathe. Allow yourself the luxury of doing nothing for a moment, or an hour, or even a day. It is in emptiness that inspiration will appear.
- Carole Katchen

I don't see why we ever think of what others think of what we do - no matter who they are. Isn't it enough just to express yourself?
- Georgia O'Keeffe

AFFIRMATION GALLERY



Art Editor,
Meggie Pina,
shares her art & Inspiration in her Affirmation Gallery

     
Poetry

Fried Sugar Throat

Peel me like a pear
I don't care
wear me anyway you want
as long as I'm soft
drawn open
a fried sugar throat
a resting bone
breath like strawberry
and a sore sore throat
so sore I rub it
I love it

Do whatever you want
I don't care
as long as I'm soft
tasting tangerine
caught like a thief
whispering vines
in between teeth

My hands wander
my eyes wander
my heart wanders
I'm fine as long as you
let me go on about with
this sweetness
a fried sugar throat
going sweeter
with every turn

Peel me like a pear
I don't care
spin me round
see what you create
little jewel box handler
wear me anyway you want
I don't care
as long as I'm soft
sore and sweet.

by Catherine De Gear

 
     
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