Poetry of Love, Resistance, & Solidarity

Posts tagged ‘Joseph Bast’

Holy Water by Annette Hope Billings

I, Water, having fully drenched12552978_10153398709925678_2056471190933144579_n

each part you present,

find you faultless,

I find you totally acceptable,

utterly free of error,

and entirely worthy

to enter deep into me.
I, Water, part for your descent,

yield for your departure.

I covet the sum of you,

caress the all of you,

welcome the whole of you

which you so generously bring.
I, Water, feel no excess

in wake of your body’s passing.

I swirl around you,

ripple against you,

flow beside you,

lap between you.
I, Water, find you exuberantly sufficient,

clothed or naked,

to step, wade, float, tread, splash, spin, stroke,

as you will,

while you want,

until, saturated with me,

you fancy to exit.
I, Water, having shamelessly sodden

your every surface ,

deem you perfect,

and I bless you for your presence

which renders me holy.

~ Annette Hope Billings

Annette Hope Billings is an poet/actress/playwright, who has written two poetry collections. In 2015, she stepped away from four decades of nursing to writing full-time. Her most recent collection of poetry, A Net Full of Hope, was published last year, garnering her a readers’-proposed title of “Maya of the Midwest.” anetfullofhope@gmail.com

Jose Faus is a multidisciplinary artist, writer and independent teacher. He is a founding member of the Latino Writers Collective and sits on the boards of the Latino Writers Collective, UMKC Friends of the Library, Charlotte Street Foundation and is president of the board of The Writers Place. His first book of poetry This Town Like That was published in 2015. The full-length poetry collection The Life and Times of Jose Calderon is forthcoming from 39 Street Press.

136. To the Stars Through Difficulties: Joseph Bast

Day illuminates the dark stillness, at last.  She rises alone.
Silence exhales, Kansas winds cup the sails of her mind,
its compass directs a gaze beyond the withered hedge row
on horizons shimmering above the waves of bending dried pasture.
Rich scent of earth summons images of furrowed green tomorrows
reaped from burgeoning clouds remembered from fertile yesteryears.
She sips coffee, feels the cracks in the porch wood under her bare feet.
What pens the lyrics of today?
Listen!  Omega whispers in her ear “per aspera, strength”.
Drops of rain syncopate on the porch wood.  At last, September.
— Joseph Bast

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