This IS What Love Looks Like: Poetry by Women Smitten With Women

SUBMISSIONS NOW OPEN; This IS What Love Looks Like: Poetry by Women Smitten With Women. Latest Indie Blu(e) Anthology is now accepting up to 5 poems/artwork per author.
 
Artwork must be B/W compatible on the subject of the unique love shared between women. Emphasis of Anthology is celebrating same-sex love of women, lesbian or similar deep attachments, in appreciation of this unique and beautiful connection through poetry and art (no prose).
 
All submissions please send to ‘editorial team’ at candicedaquin@gmail.com, likewise with queries. Share this in groups and with those you think may be interested. DEADLINE for all submissions JUNE 16, 2019.
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First light

I was meant to find you here

In the feathered hour before waking

Where, gentle with sleep

You moulded yourself to dreamscape

Timid our hope to find, in straining dawn

Within the stream of our wandering mind

Elucidating like synchronized swimmers, carving ever decreasing circles

Each head sleek with water, diving deeper, ever tauter

From such depths we surface, forming mosaics on our skin

From seemingly unrelated moments, they wind, mirrored twine

Like treasure-seeking may leave us penniless

Laughing in the bask of adventure and

Oh the divers urge to search beneath surface

And never grow complacent or bored

For this day streaming on us, liquid silver, holds all promise

If we just examine, the way forward is forged

Out of darkness like a bright brand, quickening

Come to the frightened as they implore Titans

Leave us just a moment longer in the belief

Love can last a long wild run, barefoot and laughing

Into ocean and beyond ourselves as stones are thrown ever wider

Tracery, to the excited call of children and their hopes unfurling

Taking to warm sky, kaleidoscopic red and gold

Where you begin to wake, your eyes capture and hold

First light

Herself

She is, dismissed by men her age who

Gaze hungrily at girls their daughter’s age like

Wolves without pelts, urging toward light

Perhaps they think youth will keep them steady, as age creeps into their veins

But their heads, empty yet, of the carousel of experience

Her soft skin does not reflect the many places she will inhabit

A wisdom in her eyes will more than compensate for any lines

As they draw together in laughter and back again with the sketch of time

She may

Lament her losses but surely not regret the gain

Of a certain suppleness of mind

Hers will one day be, the confidence found over fifty winter’s more

She draws you in with her knowing, like familiar shore

It would be her bursting chest of pressed flowers, against my own, making greater indent of memory

Not a fledgling bird nor snared fox but the beauty of a falcon, gazing into distance

Her love would be measured then blown about the room in spirit form

To chase my wonder of her self possession

She stands in a gown looking out and I see

A bead of sweat we made, caught on her neck like a pearl

Even as I touch her she is untouchable, for her strength

Was forged in deep water and honed over the years like a well turned bell

Can be clearly heard, ringing us towards her

Back still straight and the scars of her living like jewels

She has brought life, she has survived beyond herself and the low imprint of convention

Free of such empty things she is now a lover released from expectation

To be at last

Herself

Carburetor

IslBGI knew it when

I popped the car hood

instead of the gas tank lock

and you

without chastising

pressed it shut

the movement of your muscles

against your pink shirt

a combining of female and male energy

my Korean acupuncturist said

ill-health comes from imbalance

and I

may love a girl

with a neck like a tropical flower

but we flow through one another

yin and yang

taking branches of each others

life force

gathering energies like streaks of rain

hitting the windscreen as we drive

listening to old songs

hand in hand