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Fed Love

let's feed our love dripping
to the mother and watch the
soft kisses
dribble down her

paint her diner napkin
as coffee silhouettes embracing on lipstick
smudges under
a coy hand

folds of paper pushing against
pulling into plying apart pressing upon
each other
sticking with their

to her lips smiling corner
lay the shadow or a sweetness
wiped away
by the imaginative

let her hum our whispers
elevating them to an operatic melody
pricking the
ears of another

with that familiar recognition of
a point in parallel radiating warmly
from the
souls coastal shores

when eyes meet across formica
lets put our moves in the
brave father
fire for the

lets caress their hands together
to layer sky on earth in
a simple
act of mutual

press their bodies into
his cumulus pillars flying purposefully upward
then falling
into her green

forming on our curves the
rolling hills of the atlantic that
kept undulating
as saharan desert

entwining their arms and legs
into the great roots of angkors
trees hugging
softly for the

they somersault under the sheets
like fat happy buddhas singing into
their golden
eyes skipping on

each thankful as stuffed peasants
for the slice of our heart
fed lovingly
to the inspired

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 


I enjoyed the word play in this one, each stanza a poem in itself. Especially liked this stanza,

they somersault under the sheets
like fat happy buddhas singing into
their golden
eyes skipping on

Good stuff


Stand tall, be proud to be who you are, give the world the finger!!!!

Thanks Lou. Glad yah enjoyed it. This one took awhile to construct.


J.A. Fisher

author comment

This is so to the point, and with it of such sensuous and motherly reality that it is a pleasure to read. All images supporting the theme and some so intensely experienced as to be visible now.

Love Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

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