Tag Archives: poem

Wild

Photo Credit: The Carroll County Times, Chris Ammann
Photo Credit: The Carroll County Times, Chris Ammann

Hers, a heart wild with
abandon. Reckless – not.

Arms just wide enough to
embrace her Atlantic, legs
long enough to take in moon
silvered walks near waves
colored by night.

A neck sensitive enough to
know a mineral caress,
fingers eager enough to
siphon gritty warmth and hold
smooth treasures gifted by the sea.

Hers, a heart wild with
passion where ocean
blurs sky.

~Pamela

Advertisements

Sharks

Attribution: How to Draw Funny Cartoons http://www.how-to-draw-funny-cartoons.com/cartoon-shark.html
Photo credit: http://www.how-to-draw-funny-cartoons.com/cartoon-shark.html
Words, like knotted muscles,
tense. Wonder if you can feel the
letters jumbling together, backing
up in your throat.

What makes you think I towers
over me? A capital letter? Maybe
you forgot I have one, too. My
name starts with it.

Sounds, like maddened hornets,
rise. Do they sting as they leave
your mouth? Nah, not worried.
Got my antihistamine.

That cacophony, though. Man,
what noise – hard to hear over
pollution rushing through underground
sewers, levels rising.

You forget that my Atlantic is
bigger than your filth. Despite your
spills, it thrives. Creating life in abundance,
cancelling out shore lined trash.

Crashing waves drown out your my and
mine. Washing out to sea your selfish salt
tears and empty beer bottles, bobbing in
blue black riptides.

Treasures remain – handpicked shells with
sunset curves and fragile skeletons of small
creatures. Windblown hair of a tiny one and
a taller one. Even sharks lose their teeth.

~Pamela

Unveiled

images (1)

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

Conflagration

download (1)

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.

~Pamela

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

Cerulean

cropped-ocean-2.jpg

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

Google Image

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

In the Arms of Morpheus

205547170464020942_h6jO1Pjb_c

Her arms gathered sunrises close
to her, luring in welcomed heat
and searing passions, crimson clouds
and afterglow.

Her arms swept galaxies close
to her, drawing in crescent moons
and silver shadows, indigo skies
and Orion.

Her arms cajoled him move close
to me, beguiling with silken skin
and trailing fingers, entwined in
Morpheus.

Pamela A. Rossow

Ornament

ornament

An ornament upon
my tree you are-
not.

More like ice crystals
stinging and bitter cold,

a biting wind tearing
through a flimsy sweater,

jagged pieces of snow
globes broken, stabbing.

An ornament upon
my tree you are-
not.

© Pamela Rossow

Ode to Olive Oil

golden rivulets pool
glinting an autumnal
haze making it
difficult to see
anything but amber
apparitions

© Pamela Rossow