W.I.S.H. has two of my poems up!! Thank you Jeremiah Walton.

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Walking Is Still Honest has two of my poems up here.

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Red Corn Song #4

Almost – D.G.J.

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Almost
DGJ

“ Our little envelope of time we share during the hustle and bustle of these green country days in Oklahoma like constellations of yore or some intergalactic planetary Z world. Sometimes two meet in harmony, come together and orbit around each other. At first a tender orbit that starts in a moment & leads to clasping, gripping, kissing, licking, holding into a thrust & release. Release back from each other and their orbit ….back to their worlds …back to their separateness….for a moment until the arc begins again. “ (he said)

What you didn’t do was sing to me one more time before said release.
There was no rain to save me from the drought cracking away at my spirit.
What you didn’t do was even ask before you ran. (again)
You assumed he would mean more than you,
or hold some sacred place he had never touched or known.
You didn’t see my world crumbling and falling around me.
You never really stepped inside.
I have spent the last 1097 nights alone.
With some days more bleak than this longing since your absence.
I recite you every moment like a prayer or poem.
How can I forget the sudden ferocity of our commingling
Here where more than flesh remembers,
in faint drawn out sounds.
I am but a ghost walking empty streets
draped in great stars of white hoarfrost,
in time that thickens and closes around me.
This is written with brushes
made from the bones of what could have been.
You folded my heart like it was paper and crushed it beneath your shoe.
(she said)

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved

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Endings Begin Thus Quietly

The fortune cookie at dinner read,
“ You will make many changes before settling down happily”.
In that moment, I knew there was more to love than you.
Strange the way something so simple can speak in signs, significations.
The way omens are visions and we will suddenly see what is sitting before us.
I knew the road behind had not led me to you, so much as to this place.
Where I would awaken within and see that there was another thing
I was meant to be doing this entire time.
Years wasted and gone in what was never anything more
than pictures we painted for those watching.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved

In My Verse- New Poem

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Bed Yourself In My Verse

I love the way
you bed yourself
in my verse
making each song
one about you.
Earth’s sweet perfume
fragrant on night air,
your memory
the breeze that caresses.
A muse, my delight
from whence such craving
springs forth,
like swollen fruit raised
up in offering.
Under your skin
the moon is shining alive,
like the light that
radiates out from you.
I love the way
you bed yourself
in my verse
like awaking to the suns
of our ancestors.
Something so primal
and natural calls
and if there were
but a moment,
i’d hide in you
To be carried close
buried deep in your soul
like the warmth
of a sunbeam or melody.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved

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Remembering

Remembering
the past
only makes me
miss it more.
All the old places are gone.
People and attitudes have changed.
Sometimes the memories
are more painful than
the joy I remembered.
I still find the need to embrace
out of fear that we would forget.
(those we loved and cherished)
We can let them know
that they are still loved,
our heart remembers their lives &
aches for their passing.
They come back
to console me when I mourn.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley and Carlos Guevara, All Rights Reserved

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Also they were kind enough to inclue my poem 1st Rain in “That’s How Romantic Monday Goes” here:
http://edwardhotspur.wordpress.com/2013/04/08/thats-how-romantic-monday-goes/

Cover of Churn!!!!

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I could not wait to show you guys how amazing our first cover looks!! We have worked so hard and are all so proud of this. We have such an unbelievable team of talented people working together! We can only hope every one loves reading this as much we enjoy making it!
(not yet available)
Special thanks to:
Barton Smock
Susana H. Case
Rae Desmond Jones