Category Archives: Poetry/Prose Mine

The Keeper

What was it in his eyes? Not Monday, too sluggish. Not Tuesday, too fair. Wednesday? Maybe. Wait, Friday. Definitely Friday. An entire succession of Fridays with their infinite possibilities and wild freedom.

Better yet? Summer. Its hazy glint of blazing afternoons, burning stars, and galaxies ripped open wide in a nightly show replayed in his pupils for the world to take notice.

But did it? Did it slow its rushing and clawing and climbing and grasping to stop and look? I mean stare?

If it had, they would have seen, could have inhaled present. Clock hands turned, digital numbers flipped, even sunlight shifted. But his eyes . . . wet with oceans and the beams of a thousand lighthouses anchored.

Ash

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They were solid-
sunlight and energy
wrapped up in liquid
until tiny flames
became infernos.
Burning an orange
hot, frenzy.

Until steam
smothering vapors
put out fuel.
Silence then
ash. 

~Pamela

Unveiled

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A veil blotting out
even sun specks gripped
tight by your hands

going lax—faint glimmers
then blinding warmth
swimming before
my eyes.

I see and feel day
leaving behind night and
your shrouds.

~Pamela Rossow

 

Conflagration

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Her as oxidizer.

A crushing embrace
heated through.

Stoked by red hot embers
igniting an epic blaze, a light
up the sky bonfire —

eagerly licking up
fuel as greedy flames burned, singed.

Catalysts, flashpoint, then combustion.

When the heat simmered down, a white smoky
haze–aftermath still smoldering. He was
changed.

Growing

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Where did the time go?

From feet
little that pitter
patted to shoes that
gape and click.

From wake-ups
and monsters to scare to
looking up for hugs
bent down.

Where did the time go?

From loving huge
and huger still
cords fraying and
knowing well of the
hopes and dreams
ballooning.

Where did the time go?

Life’s shorter and heart’s
bigger to hold memories
warm from the sunshine
of your smiles

~Pamela

Funk

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She danced to funk
writhing and swaying
to strong riffs and heavy
bass.

She moved to hard
rhythms still loose
laughing at intense
grooves.

She forgot about
everything and nothing
getting down on
offbeats.

Tide Lines

red tide a

You visit me when the rains come.
Sliding in through the rising torrents
beating my windows, in the water
swirling around my ankles.

You can’t help yourself.

There’s something about crushing
waves that are a part of you which make
her eat sand, another’s eyes red from stinging
salt water, one more her heart aching from being
crashed into again and again.

Your wake leaves behind brown tide
lines with dirty foam, crushed shells,
sand dollars in pieces.

~Pamela

Siren

e
v
o
b
a
hair fanned
b
e
l
o
w
slick curves.

C-D-E-F-G-A-B-C
C-D-E♭-F-G-A♭-B♭-C
gleam.

silver
tale
spins

d
e
e
p

d
e
e
p
e
r

into black-
blue.

~Pamela Rossow

Cerulean

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I drank you in—
swam in your
oceans
dove to your
depths
kicked to your
surface.

I inhaled cerulean—
tasted salt on my
tongue
embraced gritty
warmth
wrapped myself in a
crashing embrace.

You were
infinite—
until your finiteness.

~Pamela

Home

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she once thought his face
brought her home to sun
speckled shadows that
cooled her and white-hot
blazes that burned within

one glance and her lungs
began drowning in moist
humidity gasping for
the slightest whisp of breeze
coming off the Atlantic

she looked away her home
wasn’t just stifling heat and
scorching sunshine it was
also diving into cerulean and
inhaling freshly cut emeralds

her home welcomed her
his face turned her out
her home comforted her
his face was vacant a
sign that read For Rent

© Pamela Rossow