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Simple Harmonic Motion

January 8, 2013


All afternoon her belly itches –
taut, hot moon,
+++++++++++++++++w a x i n g

Skin stretches bubblegum thin
shiny with the press
of generation

Strangers, sniffing liberties
on waves of joie de vivre, curve
palms over ghosting elbow, heel


she knew his eyes would be
sienna brown – had dreamt it
five months in

All afternoon her belly itches
and she is helpless, played
from the inside


Art by Philippe Flohic

Once again linking with a fab band of global poets @dVerse Poets Pub:

From → Uncategorized

  1. the last man that was played from the inside out was probably van gogh…your grip never loosens

  2. Becky, this has got to be one of my favorite out of all your wonderful poems. Wonderful descriptive details. Taut hot moon waxing! Brilliant.

    • Ah.. thanks Victoria. Really appreciate that and very happy to hear the words are working for you.

  3. the enjoyment of life…smiles…there is just something about seeing a woman so full of life…and watching that little arm or foot buble across her belly…to know life is n there just waiting to come out…

  4. The construction of this powerful little poem enhances its impact greatly. Stretching the words so that stanza expands into stanza and dropping the last word down into its own solo space carries the theme beautifully. Admirable.

    • Happy to hear the formatting works in that way for you… always a bit fo a gamble and risks turning into a gimmick.

  5. Klassic Killbo and the gamble pays off
    because of the quality of what has come before:
    Juicy Fruit indeed 🙂

  6. jasmine calyx permalink

    Awesome, Becky! This is my favorite part:
    “she knew his eyes would be
    sienna brown – had dreamt it”

  7. Thanks Shawna, Arron… always enjoy your visits 🙂

  8. ah you dropped that ending? It works well like this. Makes me turn in my chair a little. Emphatic and uncomfortable

    • Mmm.. I decide it felt more unified to end there. The other ending was really the start of another poem…. so thanks for the nudge

      I’m interested this makes you squirm a bit… quite surprised really. Poems have a life of their own that is only realized in the eyes-heart-mind of each reader.

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