Spools of Thread

.
ow many
spinning turns will
it take to mark the times you
let words slip out of your mouth

before

you had a chance to soften

……their blow?

How many spools of thread
will it take for everyone to
stop saying:  I told you so.

How many colors of silken string
does it take to wrap up the soft
words you whispered so low no
one heard them, not even the
Beloved.

How many times did you
think, how many times,
did you,

think?

* * * * *

Gisele Vincent-Page lives in Canada and is the author of Strolling Down Heaven’s Gate, a compilation of prose and poetry relating to her 28 years of living with HIV. She has received the Poet of the Week  award on two occasions on Super Poetry Highway. Her poems have been published in Mused; Bella online; Poetry Soup; all things girl, Fanstory; allpoetry.com; Author’s Den; received the Poet of the Month award from The Writing Forum.  The Body HIV/AIDs Newsletter has also published one of her poems. She has written blogs for the websiteA Girl Like Me (AGLM).

Her contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Her previous contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

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Flood Me Completely

.

rought you ashore to show you the places I adore.  Fish
slapping their poor bellies on
rock hard sand;  footprints where
the bears went.

The sky nearly hidden in the trees and mountains,
the hills and the slopes amaze my prairie- trained
eyes.  Isn’t it magnificent – all this for you and I?

Gazebos galore, hot tubs in every backyard;  Buddha
sits in the farmer’s market – providing the ancient
assurance of more.

These limited senses can’t cope with all this power
a forever burning fire, take me with you to the
center of this life giving pyre.

* * * * *

Gisele Vincent-Page lives in Canada and is the author of Strolling Down Heaven’s Gate, a compilation of prose and poetry relating to her 28 years of living with HIV. She has received the Poet of the Week  award on two occasions on Super Poetry Highway. Her poems have been published in Mused; Bella online; Poetry Soup; all things girl, Fanstory; allpoetry.com; Author’s Den; received the Poet of the Month award from The Writing Forum.  The Body HIV/AIDs Newsletter has also published one of her poems. She has written blogs for the websiteA Girl Like Me (AGLM).

Her previous contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Nymph Finding the Fullness of Freedom

This poem was inspired by the photography work of Luca Napoli, previously featured at Snake-Oil Cure in the post Exposure № 058: Festivals of the Provinces II

ut from her antenna, suicide is not
always an escape.

Opens her eyes and puts the moon
asleep.  Sees lands and scapes of
being mixed with moving caravans,

her chaperone quick to follow.

The sun went out.
Laughter left the room, she’d
never known such emptiness
and non-attachment.

Don’t leave me here this way.
Hide the tracks, close the cover,
dig, dig and dig.

Cover up all the deserts.  Anyway
you don’t need to close your eyes,
just keep your mouth shut.

Desolate birds thrown from trees;
a nymph won’t show her face.
Makes trouble in the trough.
Crawls through grime, even men
from outer space can’t restrain her.

She is good and kind, simply hard to find.

* * * * *

Gisele Vincent-Page lives in Canada and is the author of Strolling Down Heaven’s Gate, a compilation of prose and poetry relating to her 28 years of living with HIV. She has received the Poet of the Week  award on two occasions on Super Poetry Highway. Her poems have been published in Mused; Bella online; Poetry Soup; all things girl, Fanstory; allpoetry.com;Author’s Den; received the Poet of the Month award from The Writing Forum.  The Body HIV/AIDs Newsletter has also published one of her poems. She has written blogs for the websiteA Girl Like Me (AGLM).

Her previous contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Such Gifts

I’ve been listening to the trees
                                            all my life.

Fifty years later, I understand
they have been talking to me.

Whispering, willowing waves
branches
and leaves saying we love you.
We are the tickle in your ears,
whispering words
of peace.
Soothing your eyes in times
of grief.

Sing to the joy of emptiness, we
smooth away your fears;  we bathe
you in the grace of giving.
Giving

is the greatest gift.  Giving away
your name, your ego, your shame.
Giving you
forgiveness.

Knowledge is a sharing gift.
Give
what you have learned.

Fading

Trying it all over again,
the wish, the dream that
all fell through.

I seized a slip of some soiled
spotted reminder;
none of it will be erased.

Fixed my thoughts anew and
again the dreams I had stayed
put.  Haunt me, hurt me, this
is what I have;

shadows and shades of what
should have been,  the light
fades just enough to say grace,
none of it will be erased.

Innermost in my musty soul
is your shining glow calling
me dimly in the stroke of
night, wafting wants and
delights.

Yes, deception has won me.
I crave to stand in the joy of
this minute!  Nothing harsh,
real hopes and wishes wandering
in a land of wispy pieces of a life.

* * * * *

Gisele Vincent-Page lives in Canada and is the author of “Strolling Down Heaven’s Gate“, a compilation of prose and poetry relating to her 28 years of living with HIV. She has received the Poet of the Week  award on two occasions on “Super Poetry Highway”. Her poems have been published in “Mused”; “Bella” online; “Poetry Soup”; all things girl, “Fanstory”; allpoetry.com; “Author’s Den”; received the Poet of the Month award from “The Writing Forum”.  The “Body HIV/AIDS” Newsletter has also published one of her poems. She has written blogs for the website “A Girl Like Me” (AGLM).

Her other contributions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Sonnet: Is there no limit to the humility?

Is there no limit to the humility?
Thy frail tears delight the male measure,
for thee I donned lily-of-the-valley.
Oh, do not trouble me with your kerchief sir.

My woman bosom has often bristled;
staring at blank windy seas.
Your ardour for me has fizzled;
brutish pet, I foresee an accolade of furious bells,

whirl wildly despite your weaponry.
If they could carry the weight of my gladness;
mirth meets my lips standing by in great revelry.
Petals soothe my feet as you, sir, become breathless.

I and my feathered feet
shall pounce and dance home to a minuet beat.

by Gisele Vincent-Page

* * * * *

This is part of a series of featured entries in our first-ever poetry contest.
Stay tuned for more and get ready to vote for your favorite!