6Sep 2016 Sharon Frye

Body Language

featured in the poetry forum
there it is again the tilting back of the head the three-syllable laugh like the father’s a renaissance cowboy without a ranch see the lost horizon in his eyes the... Read More
editors note:

A wild wester in a civilized land – mh clay

5Jun 2015 Sharon Frye

Rapier (In Protest of Fracking)

featured in the poetry forum
Injected venom shoots through her veins daggers shove deep in soft folds of belly Womb scraped then scrapped tainted and splintered take all her honey drain her of lifeblood Still,... Read More
editors note:

We just won’t stop until enough is all gone. (Read another mad missive from Sharon on her page about the OKC Bombing – check it out.) – mh clay

5Jun 2015 Sharon Frye

If I were God-

I’d rewind that Wednesday morning when Tim McVeigh and John Doe loaded ammonium nitrate in a yellow Ryder truck and blew 168 souls to Kingdom-Come Confetti of files and flesh... Read More
28Mar 2015 Sharon Frye

Detasseled

featured in the poetry forum
Under belched clouds in Nebraska’s sunny sky, irrigation pumps chugged staccato rhythm, a zombie cadence for marching pubescent pluckers. She walked through miles and miles of corn heat swollen erect... Read More
editors note:

Innocence turned to unintended complicity, caught in the coils of the combine. – mh

28Mar 2015 Sharon Frye

Ecclesiastes

I drag horsefeathers behind yesteryears heaped end over end in a pinewood box I tally tarnished trinkets skewed round my wrist leave laurel leaf tokens down long littered trails I... Read More
24Jan 2014 Sharon Frye

At Model Nails

featured in the poetry forum
In early morning light, large black eyes stare from his shower-fogged mirror. He compares his profile with worn photo of his father. Once, his mother stitched it to a secret... Read More
editors note:

Come to escape a nightmare; hoping to grab the dream – we don’t notice. “A natural finish please and I’d like a glass of white.” – mh

29Sep 2013 Sharon Frye

Wallpaper Roses

featured in the poetry forum
little brown eyes peek behind white cotton sheets she listens... muffled steps steal lightly down the hall she holds her breath shivers in dark searing heat counts pink paper roses... Read More
editors note:

The only escape, free the mind; count the roses, climb the vine. – mh