By Brenda Mox Surrealist woman in a serious room,a long bodied, emaciatedModiglianiwatched with great wonder.No tennis playing, surf riding dollof the west was she.Just a bag of bones,a floppy broken stick,a maniac.Her sweet smile glowed in neon rednessyet grew solemn among the flushedfaced fools drunkenness.Tears of sorrow in her brown eyesabsorbed his soul into her … Continue reading Surrealist Woman
Dances With Raised Arms
By Brenda Mox The angel at the doorway moves in the wonder of worlds beyond time. Representative of some mystic glowing world of unreality, her voice rings vibrations into the soul like a trumpet, echoing in dark places of being.She shines moonlight on the darkness hovering on the edge of one’s consciousness.From the radiance of … Continue reading Dances With Raised Arms
Early Morning Stillness
By Brenda Mox As fortune passed its meridian,the moon shut herselfwithin her chamber,girdling the great hill hollowwhere greenness grew over brown bedsrich in verdure shadows,giving force and fixednessto new impressions.From a cerulean skyuniformly clear of cloudsor evil feeling,the sun drank dew dropsfrom light illumined orchard treeswhile early morning stillnessslumbered everywhere. Brenda Mox is a poet … Continue reading Early Morning Stillness
The Deluge
By Brenda Mox Dark skies full of lightningflashing like a strobeas clouds blinkand rain runs in sheetsagainst window panesthen drips to puddles that sinkin sandy loamwhere grass blades holdthe deluge.Gale force winds,strong and unwavering,wield bent lances clashing like thunderthrough strobe blinking cloudsdropping blankets of rainin a banshee danceover hills and plains. Brenda Mox is a … Continue reading The Deluge
Love’s Light
By Brenda Mox Her bitterness seemed to wither like flowers in a crystal vase, on the hinges of his words, full of fairy delights bursting forth with pops of color, singing like a Sunday smile. Caught in the magic of moments in the fire bathed parlor casting warm glows on the sides of their face, … Continue reading Love’s Light
Cold Dark Ironies
By Brenda Mox He was born with something at odds inside a knot of vague darkness where he hides, cleared eyed as a wolf on the hunt. Brow dark and disturbed, a thunder headed runt with a raw reedy voice of outraged revenge which he spews forth from greyhound limbs. Sharp as a chip of … Continue reading Cold Dark Ironies
Academy of the Heart And Mind 