Thursday, July 26, 2012

Two Poems by Pamela Sayers

Colibris on Plaid Blankets

Chiseled hips window the secrets of grief
on mountains; I’ve photographed these:
flowers blooming in a hummingbird’s view

Where I’ve rested a hand amongst colour’s
marrow in my desert sky, crocuses
spread wide as breastbones grasp
deep within stillness

Pivoting, adjusting to massive
spaces, a clatter of constellations
perhaps leads to silence

Memories Like Silver Spoons

I. Snow and ice

I ran grabbing flurries,
melting in my hands,
wishing angels beneath
me with wings to take frozen flight,
as you watched crimson drops
sliding down my face — I cried

II. Buds and greenery shine

I sat cross-legged, touching dandelion
petals, kissing the day’s
wishes, ants scurrying before my
feet, moving the earth into
their kingdoms — I dreamed

III. Sun and sand

I floated on waves, buoyant,
light as a wisp of salty wind,
grazing sunlight brushing my
skin, turning it a tender, pinkish
hue, when an angry undertow pulled
my toes and tried to pull me
from you — I breathed

IV. Burnt leaves changing colours

I pounced, chanting on freshly
raked piles, mud staining my clothes,
each smear an adventure, an ending
of cycles, living and dying where
fires singed my senses — I wondered

Each season my universe …
Pamela is an English teacher living in Mexico.
She traded in her city high heels for Doc Martens and a different,
spicier life ten years ago. She writes mostly about what she
sees going on around her. Now living a stress-free life with her
husband and their happy animals (4 dogs, a cat and a parrot).

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