To see more of this Photographers work...clik here

Fashion Statement

Swizzle stick

With clouds of billowing hair

Glittered haughty glances

Through smudged lids and

Bat wing lashes

Hip line scant as

Arrows

Lithe and angled

A clothes hanger stance

Heeled pumps

Don't even shape the

Calf

Bossom-less

Full of neck line

Ear loops larger than

Her waist

Strut and saunter

Fashion move'n

Runway groove'n

Robust me wondering~

Does any of this matter

At 50 something?

(c) carol voccia 2007

Too White to sing the Blues

Check out this graphic artist's work!

I hold on to Mr Zoloft

When my shoulders emit searing pain

My pounding blond head fills up dazed

Someone wound up the birds

They harass opening up the

Sky with their noise

I oft time reveled in those songs

When life was green grass and tender

Moss

But today my body betrayed me

So I plucked the joy from their

Murdering throats

Someone once said

I was too white to sing the blues

(c) carol voccia 2008

His Memory of Her

The memory of her Was like a saffron mist of Sunlight Breaking through clouds Recalling the smell of her Rose like a soft rain On a gentle field of jasmine The smile of her Freckled with white Alyssum Crowned her face Her breath Sewn into a wreath Her words crooned birds From swinging branches Her poems pressed the sunrise to Weep in joy He recalled it all As the day waned to indigo And stars winked And the hollow moon tipped Soft shadows He was naked in memory His life Tumbled scarlet © carol voccia 2008 all rights reserved

Reflection

Speak to me in deepest true

Gather me up like a silk napkin and blot me across

Tendered words dripped from lips purging

Let me absorb all you wish to say

Wrapped attention to your meaning

Of worried doubts; jagged edged world dividing

Soaking you of strength and reasoned mind

Still the music you feign to sing

Strums beneath the soul

The harp plucking to be heard.

I'll hear you

And wrap winged thoughts as gauzed bandage

Rock you in all pleasures your depth can hold

Care not your wilted garden

Thorned bush or jilted path

Let me take up your brightness in a porcelain cup

And sip from it until you're mirrored in my eyes

(c) carol voccia 2006

Sometimes Love Comes Easy

I love the smile of your

Eyes that light up

As you express your most

Hidden secret of the day

In between the oohs and ahs

Of impossible

Situations that make us laugh

Because you will find the

Fun in all of it

Even when its not

My heart sings as you look

At the wonderment of life in its

Absurdity and reach out

And embrace it anyway as

Warmly as you embrace me when

We hello or goodbye

And I love you think family

Is your most prized possession

As you let the ins and outs of life's

Game taking the course it will as you

Steer the helm but you know

The gods will have their way

With us anyway

And I read between your lines

As you stutter in the fog of

Confusion

Because the heart of you

Will be kind in the

Wake of the harsh you

Try to un-wrong

And I love you because

You ask the universe for

Guidance and then hold me

Tight while waiting for the

Answers

(c) carol voccia 2007

A Cloud of Blue Eyes

I almost walked passed you

But I felt your chiseled face in a cloud of blue eyes

And golden ring of hair

Standing as a guard in waiting

Knowing I would smell your presence

It happened fast

That I was yours

Before I had a chance to

Contemplate your real story

I was dressed in lust

At your disposal

I crawled to you willingly

Handing you my fruit

You loved my thick kiss

Instantly knowing with

Some satisfaction

I had never traveled down your twisted

Path before

There I was with my tongue

In your ass wanting more

You sensed it and pushed me

Into your kinked fantasy

You fed me your flesh

One aching pore at a time

My breath came quick

And my desire

Burned like an inferno

You wanted to torch fear in my eyes

I want to give you anything you required

I unraveled as you begged me to take you

I wondered if it would pale

This side of me

So stretching to please you

Just for a touch of your

Warm insides

I pushed my cunt into your face

And painted it with my honey

And I called you my king slut

And you begged for more as I took you

Just long enough for you to own me forever in your

Cloud of blue eyes

(c) carol voccia 2006

Enlightenment and Thought

Eons of books tangle my hair all those

Words waiting to be read

Is it possible to gather thoughts and meaning

As waves of data

Splattered like paint over the universal arch to

Timelessness where the suns

That pose as stars in trillions of meteoric measures speak to us?

Worm holes and

Gothic towers all colliding in the

Cosmic flow of eternal ice and forever wind

Obsidian glass cracks open the frozen mind demanding

The master sitting in cross-leg wisdom profess to us while

Our inside hollows bite

Will I even listen as I gorge on thought?

The Buddha laughs at tender grass hoppers

Spirit isn't thought

But the essence of translucent light transference integrating all things

Unseen as seen and

All things known as not known

Thought and ego bleed forever and we obediently sit under the ancient rain of it

Catching its ruby sorrow in cupped hands as our own

But It is not

Nor will it will ever be!

Cries the master in silk and burlap scrolls

It's an illusion

A wish

A binding prayer of ignorance and blindness

Hold those trillion suns close to your naked face and let the

Cutting light and flaming ribbon stream

From every portal

Pore and pin prick

Cleanse the black bush scorching white

Bleeding pure

Until your oneness becomes REAL

The egoic embracing mind

For all its stalactite might

Will implode bombastically

Within its own separate cavern

© carol voccia 2008

Cashews

Buttery plump paisley shaped commas

Bracket savory dishes

Or iced creamed treats

Roasted or non

Chocolated or plain

Feed them to me

One

*

By

*

One

*

And I'll lick

The salt off your

Tasty fingers

(c) carol voccia 2006

I AM

In a deep conscience place
Within the dream state of being
The ravaged upheaval birth magma spews orange
Heat exploding black earth
Was it me, your you, or the collective us
That told the silent universe
To cast violent stones in the still of eternal blackness?
Atom symmetry trembled
forcing ripples against the forever
And you and I embracing the white head of collaborative spirit
Molded the primordial ooze from the eyes and fingers of our own
Sweet breath
In the beginning there was darkness and void
You held the lamp so I could scribe
Genesis on the face of each blasting atom
And I watched as you carved from the bowels of nothingness
Our song
I AM

You, Me, Us
In waves kissed life and bore endless
Fruit singing
I AM,
I AM!
In precious silence we meet
Comrades among the still and awake
Remember me and I will remember you
In each silent prayer of aware

Singing
I AM

(c) carol voccia 2008

Wanting to be Found

Cautiously turning pages of scripted verse

Yellowed pages absorbed in ink leaking

Their pearls

My eyes connect and

Understand its pernicious unraveling

I shed my clothes

They bind me

Pinching my thickening waist and tugging at

Dimpled Thighs straining tightly

Unrestricted

I turn my pages languorously

I am crazed like the spider web glaze

Of my tea pot

And slightly chipped

Like my rough spun clay mug

I cup tart liquid

Steaming up my nostrils

Sipping and

Pondering all the

Ways I could change

Or reverse

Or Charge my course

Inside

Outside

All sides

Muffled in lost wanting

I have denied such meanderings

Un-coiling and re-coiling the rivets of my

Salting hair

Recanting evaporated memories of

Shameless youth that knew nothing

Not even in this

My silent moment between the

Inky cuts of profound insight

I lay wanting to be found

Shamelessly as in my youth between these lines

Of spilled brew

Stained

On yellowed pages