Private Voice
Selected writings by: Pamela A. Lamppa
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Cinderella Song
She slipped to trip her slipper fell-- it found its light a wishing well of painted days that dreamed of nig...
Of Mother
Oriental Bittersweet stretches, limbs caress three begotten held tightly still to heart as vines relax; press against ...
Private Voice
Yours are the shadows that find my essence; black wilderness breathing raw energy through the rustling of my taffeta where desire awa...
Recognition
Naked beneath stars, I observe our moon and plead frightened hope into the night while touch drifts with veiled chime as a satin flower upo...
Fingers Doubled Into Palm
i. I whisper your name content to mend bruises; feel shame with a new sun bright upon fresh snowfall. ii. My tear captures the metallic t...
A letter from Salvador Dalí to Pablo Picasso
Dearest Pablo, "Oh mon ami, à quel point je me rappelle notre beau déjeuner à Paris. Comme je fier suis de vous appeler ami." My ...
Rendezvous
Storm rages for a distant summer night like sweet molasses from hard sugar cane compressing heartbeats, ever so polite, until soft moonligh...
Room For More - Poetic Prose
Like a bag of sour balls, insecurity rounds my tongue, circles like a vulture ready to pick leftovers from bones already too labored to acc...
powdered time
silver spills fills temples lines windowsills while perception drifts through undulant panes remembers roses in your ha...
Third Eye Blind
I give growth to my own Ushnisha, oh enlightened me! So beautifully blessed to mount upon my elite instrument of grace. Such vision is simp...
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Hello
Eyes meet,
billow in
on air-rushed
tummy-tingle.
I’d felt
this spark
years ago
when bees
grasped daisy
petals
and sun
shimmered
river ripples
against skin.
Pamela A. Lamppa
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