by Wendy Lotterman, May 02, 2011

Mary is as beautiful as a Hollywood star.

Her thick, wavy,

long black hair gracefully falls down to her shoulders and encircles her

diamond-shaped face. A golden suntan usually brings out her smooth,

clear complexion and high cheek bones. Her slightly arched chestnut brown eyebrows

highlight her emotions by moving up and down as she reacts to her world around her.

Her large deep blue eyes, remind me of a lake on a stormy day. Her curved nose gives her a

little girl look that makes me want to smile when she talks. And her mouth is a small

mouth outlined by puffy lips that she often accentuates with glossy pink lipstick.

When she smiles, which is often, her well formed and even, white teeth brighten up her

whole face.

I guess you can tell that I am head over heals in love with Mary.

Description of a person

Speaking about this person,

I should say that I mentioned smile and eyes when I saw her one day.

Her eyes are grey with a green colour that makes the orbs just a tad lighter.

The eyes are opened to the soul of any person but in this case they lead you not only to

her soul but to the inner world of emotions. And I can read any feeling that she has

in the eyes. Sometimes it is easy to speak without the words, I think you understand what

I want to say, that it is easy to communicate just looking into the eyes of each other and

read any thought.

Her smile is always beaming and it can even cheer you up.

Angel (my best poem, I think)

This angel inside me is slowly burning

She's turning evil, not like me at all

It hurts so bad as my life starts turning

No longer can I rise proud, just painfully fall

This evil angel is eating me inside out

While my brain tries to fight for light

As my joyful life forms to doubt

People love me, but it's just blind to me

They care, but I don't believe

I wish this angel would run away so once again I could see

Maybe then I would have no one to deceive

But she's still here and she wont go away

LEAVE! ! DIE! ! GO AWAY! ! I yell

But she's still here to this very day

Why don't she know, I want her to leave, why can't she tell? ! ?

She now shines through almost all the time

But I wish she never would

I don't feel like me, as if I'm on the other side of the line

Would you make her go away if you could?

About Face

By Alice Fulton

Because life's too short to blush,

I keep my blood tucked in.

I won't be mortified

by what I drive or the flaccid

vivacity of my last dinner party.

I take my cue from statues posing only

in their shoulder pads of snow: all January

you can see them working on their granite tans.

That I woke at an ungainly hour,

stripped of the merchandise that clothed me,

distilled to pure suchness,

means not enough to anyone for me

to confess. I do not suffer

from the excess of taste

that spells embarrassment:

mothers who find their kids unseemly

in their condom earrings,

girls cringing to think

they could be frumpish as their mothers.

Though the late nonerotic Elvis

in his studded gut of jumpsuit

made everybody squeamish, I admit.

Rule one: the King must not elicit pity.

Was the audience afraid of being tainted

--this might rub off on me--

or were they--surrendering--

what a femme word--feeling

solicitous--glimpsing their fragility

in his reversible purples

and unwholesome goldish chains?

At least embarrassment is not an imitation.

It's intimacy for beginners,

the orgasm no one cares to fake.

I almost admire it. I almost wrote despise.

Poem: About Face

by Wendy Lotterman, May 02, 2011

Standing face on great gloss plain

in strands, the face, in colored bands of elemental

stranded picture split in color and ended where

the great gloss plane begins

a yawn is split,

your face. Across a plane of transatlantic

yawn is caught and spit on screen

a transatlantic lag is you, about your face

in three seconds, split in picture element

plane’s distance stands in minutes miles split to three

and lagged three seconds split across colored

strands that move a moment’s lag after

your face. About

your face, in the picture split in three,

space winnowed origin, where left is right

time slotted so your now is all at once

and second-handed facing wherewithal:

your face, is about an other

that entered where yours split into

derivative strips of you in elemental

space where one is not but stripped of

whole to be for the other, distanced by plane

a band of stripes three colors and

three seconds lagged from the face

you are really about.

Your Face Panaceas in Moonlight (A poem for mesmerizing dreamers)

Your face panaceas in moonlight.

And englow effervesce in sunlight.

Like a touch of meadowed efflores-

cence it's flowering in an ethereal

Of blossoms It embellishes the enchantment of night

It makes the heart ponder feirie, and

Immensurable; or, like a hunger, that

Can never be repleted; as we go saun-

tering hand-in-hand

In enchanted Bliss. We are imbued; as dolce en-

rapture the night, for a deity, a pana-

cea. Like a dream-boat, we are riding

Soothing waves for an entrenous twosome. As

Your face panaceas

In

Moonlight.

Create Date : Thursday, January 02, 2003

J. Thomas, Jr.

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 1433