It wasn’t the blur of her leopard print skirt
Or the lower East side blaring taxi yellow sweater,
I was crucified by the intensity of her regal features
As they nailed me with their direct stare
Through chocolate colored eyes that blinked
Like hammers
Their inquisitive, yet dismissive, questions
Unanswered.
I looked away, ashamed to have imposed on her space.
the literary asylum
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
Creativity conquers all!
A Gender Transition Journey
Light, Love, and Magic in the Hills of East Tennessee
The Art and Craft of Blogging
Examining the extraordinary and the mundane
AM Roselli's art & writing site
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
(re)Living History, with occasional attempts at humor and the rare pot-luck subject. Sorry, it's BYOB. All I have is Hamm's.
This was inspired by a photo taken by New York photographer Adrian Buckmaster. I saw the picture and I couldn’t help but write the poem. His work is astoundingly beautiful to me. Each one is, and truthfully I never thought of photographs like this, works of art. Yes, I’ve admired fine photos and I’ve appreciated the beauty of them, but…his work is…Yeah, it’s pretty much my favorite because each one screams of beauty.