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Poetry

Poetry is more
It is the insistence of cold sweat
It is, put simply
the beat of my soul

Shared poetry

Emily

10/14/2014

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once her dress
her dress was white
pockets filled with
snow and ice
her dress
it`s hem was endless
a sentence
by Dickinson
sewn on a scrap

small hands gath`ring
a view condensed
haunted by 
the doubled-edge
of solitude, and reams
of braided words that seemed
a soundless stretch
a depth of blue

her girdle fast
like a finger band
a gasp cinched
in a sachet
a cricket caged
in a locket
round her neck

round her hair
a ribbon of red
an ache escaped
it`s lacings
and clasps
undo this knot twined
`neath her breast

     Listen ~

Her wrist pulsed
slender threads
a beat beneath
fingertips

her dress was white
`twas pockets
filled with snow
and ice
she walked

in winter
on the frozen lake
she pictured thawing

she saw
she saw

the harebell field
stared like a sea
dense like a promise
a splayed memory

Written by Reka Jellema, Brendan Bonsack and Kathryn Ross                      October 2014



Copyright Kathryn Ross & Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack 2014
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    Author 
    Kathryn Ross
    Rossi@serenebeliever
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