Don Blanding (2012 Poem In Your Pocket)

When the beat drops

by Tamara Woods

Instant connection
His hands banging drums and
Her hips catching beats.

Fingertips raised skyward
Asking for directions to some pagan god.
He wonders if she smells like the rain
Gently kissing her upturned face.

Music links them
Fluid ocean and steadfast beach,
He wanted her to wash up against his shore
Taking pieces of him with her.
Ebbing and flow.

She moves like the steel drums
Birthed her years ago
In a swept away village
Where sun-kissed brows were
Stained with wolf berries
For life and fertility.

Molten golden fire strands catching the breeze
Her feet loses their slipper shackles
Leaving life prints in the sand
Leading him to her.

It would be so easy
To commune with spirits
At her side.
Giving praise to Pele
For surely her ancestors were born
From lava and tears
Leaving legacy on her crown.

And then the music stopped.

Tamara Woods was raised (fairly happily) in West Virginia, where she began writing poetry at the age of 12. She has previous experience as a newspaper journalist, an event organizer, volunteer with AmeriCorps and VISTA, in addition to work with people with disabilities. She has used her writing background to capture emotions and moments in time for anthologies such as Empirical Magazine, her blog PenPaperPad and writing articles as a full-time freelance writer. She is a hillbilly hermit in Honolulu living with her Mathemagician.

Torch Ginger Verse

by Don Blanding

The Kings are gone and gone are kingly ways
With rituals of ancient vanished days
When shark-skinned drums throbbed thunder in the night
And royal torches flamed with crimson light
If ghosts of Kings and stately Queens return
Their sad remembering eyes will brightly burn
With joy to find a loyal flower remembers
Torch Ginger petals flare with phantom embers.


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