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I’ll be honest – it’s been difficult to choose a poet to feature today. Although I’ve read a lot of superb poems this week, they’ve all been by poets who are too well-known to really fit within the concept of Talent Tuesday, and I’d like to keep this particular part of And a poem on the side, please contemporary. I’ve also read a lot of poems that failed to touch me or started well and then lost something of their intensity and integrity as they progressed. So I was pleased when I happened upon the ‘Poems are Kisses’ tumblr blog. Since there were no contact details or information about the poet available on the site, I can offer little in the way of explanation or description, but can direct you to the blog here: http://poemsarekisses.tumblr.com/.

Here are some of my favourite poems from Poems are Kisses:

These Lips

My lips are autumn dry
from frostbitten mornings
and wind that tunnels down
river.  But mostly they
suffer from too many
seasons of not being kissed.

February

The Polish girl was far
from home, glacial eyes
and a body that spoke
of paintings.

I was bundled, coat and
scarf, sitting cross-legged
in a chair, on the edge
of sobriety, watching
you make love to her.

It was slow, a soft sight,
the simple knot you made,
but I felt only February.

Even now the memory
is like touching moonlight.

Equinox

I’ll hide in the mountains
this September — follow
the hermit’s swinging lantern,
ignite the small green gem
you placed in my heart
and be more myself.

Postscript for a Season Lost

I thought of you today,
your outline, your shape.
I felt you peek
through glass,
open the door
and reclaim the fragment
self you left on my altar.
This shadow grows
with each empty hour
I thought of you today.

What is Left

While your
mind rotted, I
learned telepathy
so we could chat. When
your body failed,
I pressed your bird frame
to me, inviting in
angels.

When your soul
left, fog covered
the road between our homes.
I kissed your icy forehead,
shouldered brick-like ashes,
moved someplace quaint
to bury you under a holly bush.
Today I opened the box containing all
that is left: tarnished crock,
copper bowl from India, porcelain
cat, Bristol glass. Nothing of value,
but enough to send me awash
in your forever absence.
I don’t thrash or scream,
but crumple, try to make
myself small.
The box sat unopened for a month
because I knew what it contained,
a reminder I will never be small or
with you again.

Copyright Poems are Kisses 2013

If you’d like your poems to be considered for a future Talent Tuesday, do please drop me a line at vicki@callistogreen.com or find my on Twitter @CallistoGreen. Alternatively, you could nominate someone else’s work. Always on the lookout for new voices.

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