Black eyes gaze
from faded photographs...
Music of the Romany echo
between languid women their bodies
like melted butter. Sipping Fin a' l'eau
laughter rising like the rustling
of dead leaves. And men dark
with flashing smiles their
hair slicked with the faint
scent of Patchouli, from lips
and fingertips hang the sweet
smell of clove cigarettes.
It was their café, a chimera for
the disenchanted. The last haven
of hope for the forgotten ones.
copyright Sherry Obsheatz
5 comments:
you are fantastic.
Oh this is so romantic ~ and stirs memories of of the film "Henry & June". This is excellent. And you pay homage to these "Forgotten ones"
AND Yes, starting this blog has not only made me feel 'practiced', but the passion that is forthcoming to do it is even more ablaze. I have to thank you for opening up yourself here as well. I feel as if you are my partner in poetry. I never felt cozy with having my heart revealed on a myspace blog, however here I feel nestled.
whada keeper!... you describe the haven so well... and that last line brings it all out into the open... beautiful..
sheer poetry. beautiful.
sheer poetry. beautiful.
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