FEELING PLATH

Sheep In Fog

The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells –
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

-Sylvia Plath

PDA

Vowels

huffed hotly against my thigh
causes laughter swallowed by oceans tide.

My toes search for purchase in the sand; adrift
in throes, in sweat raining off of you onto me,
I grasp tight the bark of a bent, palm tree.

I imagine fishermen
eyes straining off-shore,
and their shorts,
and their lines
launched to the anthem he sings
cleaving to my hips, anticipating breaths
and shouts for “more” spilled from
wet, wide lips turned skyward.

adrienne ophelia

BARREN

Today was a bit of a blue day with wild emotions making me fixate on everything bad, or anything that could go wrong. Thankfully, much like today’s rain, those blue feelings have passed and I managed to craft a poem from a moment I occasionally reflect on.

Barren.png

Writing is therapeutic, but sometimes M&M’s gets the job done.

TDOR

Say their names

Say

Their

Names

Loud

Speak them back into existence
against the crimes,  the acts
of erasure, man’s brutal unkind
and remember…

their truth, the mark, remains
a power that can never die.

adrienne ophelia

THE GAMES WE PLAY

She walked the steaming streets of Barbados
with discontentment and impatience over his
deceptions, underestimated by her cunningness.
She failed to calculate the sum of his craft,
Fell head first into folly –
bruised ego and heart.
Now he’s more than a flash,
he is breath hotly at her back,
he is endless through her ages.

adrienne ophelia

DECLINE

they set sail in tub-o-ware
chart a course for destiny

bottle their tiny giggles
for a penny

jingle. jangle
keys turn with yearning for home

a rooster debuts with operatic sound
smoke dances on the body of trash

bend acutely in bed
his hand learns that longing is fickle

cast a line but caught a boot
kissed a fish that left only brine.

adrienne ophelia