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Posted on by jthunt
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What is Love

but the skin we are

wrapped in, the

grass atop the hallowed

ground,

each eyelash as its wished upon,

the foam that lingers on each wave crest.

What is Love, my darling,

you ask or was it me, (again for the third time

just today), when Love is everything

present and everything unseen.

The very root of us as

we grow and morph into something

better because we were held more,

kissed gently,

discouraged less.

What is Love, we ask

and wait with jittering

anticipation, and I say,

“Look to me, My Love!”

Yes, I say again,

“Look here!”

All the love you will ever need,

ever question, ever crave,

is now the blanket I place

over you and keep around you,

sheltered in my arms

from any storm that will

ever come your way.

Honored to be nominated for Best of the Net and a Pushcart…see poems below:

Posted on by jthunt
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Gazers, written by Julie Ellinger Hunt and Stan Galloway

http://poemblog.voxpoetica.com/search.aspx?q=Gazers&sc=t&dt=a&al=

 

 

Wrapped in Brown Paper

 

Wrapped in brown paper cut from

grocery bags, all thumbs…but kept tidy

still edges, clean of the black ink left

aside for the address label…born

from dirty thoughts and

sleeplessness, boredom too.

 

Tragedy struck the neighbor-

hood twice in one month. Left balled

up cans in foundation cracks, litter

collected in curb-side clusters.

 

Under an awning the package

sits and waits for

postal pickup while a child

quietly whistles a tune in

harmony with a roaring garbage

truck.

 

rain plays in cascades on worn

out roof tops…tickling shingles.

 

Bade on youth for stronger wrists

grip and tie down. Hold and conquer.

the package leaves the porch for good

it whispers goodbye in paper tongue.

it leaves behind a dry spot under the

awning while rain spews in sideways.

Poem of the day: Chewing Fruit and Legumes

Posted on by jthunt
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First appeared at vox poetica…this poem makes me smile…

Chewing Fruit and Legumes

you made garbanzo beans

and figs

and hired a cherub to fly

above,

flap her wings,

and make perfect shadow

dances on concrete

you pulled the figs apart

holding their weightiness

in large palms,

the heat from sun

and breath

and beans

fogged your glasses up

“chewing fruit and legumes”,

you said, would

make a perfect poem.

The cherub dove

down and snatched

your glasses from your face

then a fig,

then a kiss.

I just giggled and

asked the cabana boy

for another drink.

And another hour

with you in this silly dream

that makes me smile.