"harmitt" poems
Touch offers the deepest clue to the mystery of encounter, awakening and belonging.
John O'Donohue
Child grips the ******
indelicate with haste and
stern impatience a
cradle of warm fleshy love
rucked in the dark of her arms.
Shiloh Harmitt
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 3:58 PM UTC
Pigments of light
draw me to the surface as air
rippled against my skin beckons a
new day.
Between us our contorted bodies gather heat as distant drums
plusate
a primal language long forgotten.
As polarised opposites, we are held
by barometric pressures
with only gravity to our name.
Soon we loosen
& like tectonic plates we slowly drift
heedless of the aftermath above ground.
Shiloh Harmitt
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 12:39 PM UTC
*Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is a painting that is felt rather than seen
- Leonardo da Vinci*
Life stilled, tiny pixels of a stolen moment
Your art flowing with light and colour -
You are the poetry
That gives meaning to every pigment of our being.
Shiloh Harmitt
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:06 PM UTC