by Carly Mountain | 13 Apr, 2017 | mother, Nature, Poetry, women, Yoga
The thrash of the tiger Is held so quietly within the stillness of her striped form. Soft muscularity, Terrifying black, gold beauty. Would my hand dare caress Her silken curves, Her pulsating chest, The vicious magnificence of her passion, Deadly and divine With no...
by Carly Mountain | 18 Feb, 2016 | Nature, Poetry
Lake and Maple I want to give myself utterly as this maple that burned and burned for three days without stinting and then in two more dropped off every leaf; as this lake that,
no matter what comes
to its green-blue depths,
both takes and returns it.
In the still...
