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Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Threadwork






You are...

 fine lines 
that form arches 
beneath lobes;

 twined pairs 
that string scented 
euphemisms each time
laugh lines fade.

 I am yours;

 fingers meshed
within sunrise -
woodland pine
nibbling noses







Pamela A. Lamppa 
Copyright © 2016 
All Rights Reserved
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Peeled





I spiral,

 thin-ribbon caress
upon guarded memory
while lids burn,
bleed retorts
disguised in 
denim jeans and

 bygone tears.


Pamela A. Lamppa 
Copyright © 2016 
All Rights Reserved

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Rally




December fingers fumble with April snowfall as radical speech hits the soap box bending beneath Trump's rhetoric and a carnival of Republican brass. To the left, a blend of first time voters and long standing Democrats balance a bucket of Sanders against the status quo. Even my daffodils are mouth agog with the fresh frost that leaves them mourning spring's warmth. 
Pamela A. Lamppa 
Copyright © 2016 
All Rights Reserved

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