other people's poems, poetry

there is power in a woman’s legs

The way they stretch long and
Lean like unscented candles
The way she crosses them
Like two roads, intersecting
She pulls a white cotton
Dress over them and it
Makes them more noticeable
To me, the way she
Sips her coffee ever so
Innocently
She has the face of an
Angel
But her legs make me
Want to fall down at
Her feet
And gladly do her bidding
Her legs are searchlights
They are pathways to god
Sleek and delicate as
A sigh

//

*Another poem from Erren Geraud Kelly. I should mention that I met this man in a poetry group that I co-facilitate for individuals experiencing homelessness in Hollywood. I am fairly certain that he is a genius.

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other peoples poetry, poetry

The Queen Of Old Orchard Beach, Maine

every summer, she comes here
between tours
the emo kids mixing in
perfectly with the baby
boomers
she rests on the beach, with a
shadow of a ferris wheel
in the background

every summer, she comes
just when the lobster boats
are holding sway, far off into the
ocean, barely visible

she’ll take off her top
and the sun will make love
to her body

she always wears wayfarers,
though the shopkeepers say
her blue eyes pierce like
swords

I have been brave enough to
walk over to her a few times,
and say” hello,”
once, pretending my beach
ball went over by
mistake

she just smiled in that way
people who are affluent do,

it was like a miracle!

on her right leg,
were the names of her
nieces and nephews, she
says

an older couple sitting not
far from us, says
the government should do
a better job of guarding its
borders

brunette hair covers her face,
like a shaggy dog;
she brushes it back

I react as if
I’ve seen an epiphany

she asks me who’s better
Miles Davis or John Coltrane?

I don’t immediately answer

i’m transfixed by the
tattoo on her right arm
the one of the French flag
with the term under it that reads

Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite

a poem for Liz by Erren Geraud Kelly/ November 20, 2015

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