The Mexican Smile Buenos dias! Buenas tardes! Like an opening in the forest A clearing filtering light A window to beyond Invitation to pause A moment of connection, The passing traveler’s smile surprises with its intimacy Of an offer of friendliness A gift in the giving that recognizes A moment of “I – Thou.”
The Guitarist Enfolded, resting in his lap, His body moulds to fit her shape. Eyes shut, he listens to her sounds, Invokes the muse to guide his hands. Holding her with firm embrace, He plucks and teases out her chords, Like lover grooming knotty braids. Fleet fingers putter over wood, Then shock with smacking
THE BEAD WORKER– a prose poem By Gabrielle Blair Focused like a surgeon, he pokes his needle into a mess of glassy beads,and picks out the chosen one to press into its bed of wax.Pick-poke-press; pick-poke-press.How quickly the little pile of beads dissolves.His left hand cradles a perfect miniature dog,with large pricked ears and
THE BEAD WORKER – a prose poem Read More »
Thanksgiving In Little Rock By Gabrielle Blair “Quick! Here’s a turn-off. Take it!” We made a sharp turn off the highway. On this desolate road, we passed a wrecked, clap-board house. “Looks haunted,” I said with a sinking feeling. “Don’t make me go there! We’re liable to be killed,” was Alec’s response, remembering horror movies.
Thanksgiving In Little Rock Read More »
SQUATTERS – A Place Called Home In a field beside our ancient lake I scan the twilight shore, a bucolic landscape by an old master, Gainsborough, perhaps. Spread from tree to tree hang fishing nets, their web-like strands await repair. A tethered horse snorts and strains To feast on greener tufts of grass,
SQUATTERS – A Place Called Home Read More »
Magdalena And The Mountain Trees By Gabrielle Blair I met John Orviss as he was hiking up the mountain on the Tepalo Waterfall trail towards the Saddle, while I and a group of friends were resting on the rocks before heading back down to the village. Noticing the heavy pack he was carrying,
Magdalena And The Mountain Trees Read More »
New Neighbors The new neighbors out back, quiet and peaceful, have two kids. From my window I spy on them as they roam the yard, unused. A castor jungle competes with starry flowering lantana, honey to the butterflies, and the dumping ground of trash. They pick around and munch on this and that. Then
Child Of Fear Child of fear, partly formed middle-aged man! You flounder bravely to catch your lost youth, A knotted ball of yearning to be free, You now attempt to unravel. The rights of passage never were endured To take you to manhood. Haltingly you test your courage, Try to go beyond your coddled
Crossing Over By Gabrielle Blair A bunch of wilted carnations lie beside the signpost tied to which, with dark blue ribbon, is a bright bouquet of artificial flowers. This is an intersection I’d normally never notice walking to the store. A small pot of baby red roses is half hidden behind a larger one
The Bolshoi Ballet By Gabrielle Blair It is nearly 12:30 midnight and we have not long ago got back from the Bolshoi New Theatre. Our hotel is close enough to the centre of Moscow so we walked home rather than take the Metro, incidentally, the deepest underground I have ever experienced. The New Theatre
The Bolshoi Ballet Read More »
