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Poems by Shanna Walker


Pearls

my reincarnation lasted until the stroke of dawn
experiencing vivid scarlet and bright crimson
the inertia of feverish embraces beached me on your shore
every simple movement filling me with the strangest hungers
naked desire mingled with apprehension
searching for an elusive memory as I am pursued by Lucifer and his fallen angels
my skin burning wildly,
blood a river in flood storming at my veins,
pounding at my pulses
hot as hellfire
unabashed ectasy competing with pain
the power of exclusive love
the desire, the need, the desperate longing to lose myself
to purify the nightmares in the simplicity of this untainted soul



Parting

The coal armor of last night's love sturs within me,
an elusive harbor of bitten pineapple.
I wash my naked ribs with bleary soap,
the razor cuts my ankle like some final weight.
I feel wings like paper brush upon my brow,
moths swarm around me humming some inspid revelation.
Birthed and strangled,
on the edge of silver hysteric i sit.
Itchy and yerning for your caress,
a sour fruit of unglued titles.



Fear of Loss

She made the appointment,
quite a predicament.
Should she tell him?
would he laugh?
was it exclusively her problem?
was it a sin?
Inside her there was a tiny baby, she couldn't kill it.
Mounting panic tore at her heart strings
no one to talk to
no where to run
guilt..confusion..panic
trembling hands signed the paper
unbearable agony..weak knees, weak knees
desperation choked her
flat on the table,
feet in the stirups
the anesthetic jabbed into her sharply,
incredible pain
the sound of a vacuum
like some medieval torture
the metal piece inside her felt like it was ripping her apart
excruciating pain..violently trembling legs
her body wracked with convulsive shaking-
then silence, now scraping..
she lay there wanting to die,
sobbing in a pool of her own vomit.



Erotic Truths

I don't want a romantic exorcism
and I especially hate artifical conversations
I want you to come to me and tell me the many truths of your soul
tell me the colors that are in my kiss
the scent that is in my eyes
the many languages whispered on the curves of my breasts
and the taste in the wave of my hair
make love to me
in the shallow of the tourquoise ocean, the iridescence of the river
under the ice creast silver of a moonlit night
teach me your pleasures and caress your fantasies into the highlight of my skin
show me the rythum behind those eyes,
the music in every fingertip
and i will
lick the pollen from your tears
drink the nectar from your scars
teach you the vocabulary of love, all the way from 'a' to 'z' and show you the
dance of erotic truths.



Weeping Widow

weep willow black roses
mourn for the loss of love
cry out in torment
sew your wild wings in the
barb wire of heaven's gate
prick the moon with your thorn's
kiss the stars with poisoned petals...
and rape my heart of consciousness.


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Biographical sketch: I am 19, i have written 202 poems currently and I have 9 poems published.

Shanna Walker recommends:

collected works of Sylvia Plath by Sylvia Plath
Reason: Her poems touch you and open your heart and imagination.

Recommendations for writers:

I always write from the heart, from your passion- never sell out for the money or other people's standard's.



 


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