"whipers" poems
(Interlude)
My eyes in 1910
never saw the dead being buried,
or the ashen festival of a man weeping at dawn,
or the heart that trembles cornered like a sea horse.
My eyes in 1910
saw the white wall where girls urinated,
the bull's muzzle, the poisonous mushroom,
and a meaningless moon in the corners
that lit up pieces of dry lemon under the hard black of bottles.
My eyes on the pony's neck,
in the pierced breast of a sleeping Saint Rose,
on the rooftops of love, with whipers and cool hands,
in a garden where the cats ate frogs.
Attic where old dust gathers statues and moss,
boxes keeping the silence of devoured *****
in a place where sleep stumbled onto its reality.
There my small eyes.
Don't ask me anything. I've seen that things
find their void when they search for direction.
There is a sorrow of holes in the unpeopled air
and in my eyes clothed creatures - undenuded!
7.4k
The water glisten like crystal
As dragonflies dance to the music of the surf
A symphony of sound emanates from this quiet section on earth
Adam lays in the shadow of the coconut tree, listening
A splash in the distance distracts his attention
Eve emerges from the sweet blue water
Her basket full of fish
Swinging her hips in a coquetish way
Adam catches his breath
Her beauty confusing his senses
Leaving him defenseless
Its time, whipers the serpent
Taste the fruit she so wantonly offers
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Beware the pale horse
Who rides at dawn
From the wells of sorrow
His gait was drawn
Across the plains of snow
Unto the barren field
Ceaseless can he be
He can't afford to yeild
The benifactor thus unknown
To fabricate our faith
Shall carry upon his back
All that has to wait
The still pond lies
Its whipers are obscene
The pale horse is comming
This you can believe
He's passed the ancient grove
Before we knew of love
He's rode across the meddows
And waded through the mud
With a weary head he watched
And kept the toll
With blind eyes of age
Barer of the soul
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
She's a maiden of the night
spun curls golden ribbon twined
Men long for her beauty
Her lips a tell tale sign
She sighs within prides whipers
of breath of scotch and water
Yet, she's humbled by the days light
She casts her trust upon none
Huddles in her covers till noon's sun
She was once innocent,
her beauty natural it flowed
Now a maiden of devils honor
she sighs, at night, for the pay
Ah yes, the pay, keeps her alive
She, by night she smiles
her red lips to dazzle her King
She glows beneath the chandeliers
Sensually, she giggles
Then, all glass tips high
Who will win her eye
Cheers the gentlemen all cry
And she smiles-- again
thinking quietly-- she sighs
Yet, beneath her breath---
the words she'd whispered haunt her
"just one more time"
© Written by Linda Bates Terrell
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
We're there early to set up
As they tow the cars
Parked along the street
Adorned with bright red
Tickets under their windshield
Whipers
A man appears from a
Windowed apartment building
Door yelling in spanish
He gets in one of the cars
Gets out and takes the ticket
Off the windshield
Gets back in cursing
In spanish
And peels out of sight
Around the corner
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
he takes off her coat and hangs near the mirror
Gently whipers don't worry my dear
It won't hurt.
He takes off her jacket undoing her shirt
If you could read her mind you wouldnt learn what she slurred
In the desperate moment
When noone dares to look
She is scared as a rabbit
That's just been caught by a Wolf
Not the first time she trembles
But first time feels ashamed
Not the first time shes kissing
First time her thoughts are hissing
Like white noise in her head.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC