Poetry Blog Post New Entry

cherry blossoms in the rain

Posted by donna snyder on July 1, 2009 at 11:37 PM Comments comments (3)

Washington spring rain

Cherry blossom time ruined

Pink lips in the mud

color of morning glories a few minutes after dusk

Posted by donna snyder on May 8, 2009 at 1:47 AM Comments comments (2)






Part One



A framed pastel

A study in shadow

A woman sits


in a shady room

A large table

Across from a door


Light shines clear

through unseen glass

in the room beyond


A bright patch suggests

a sky light or large window

to the right of the woman


She sits square hands in la...

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up in North Texas

Posted by donna snyder on May 7, 2009 at 4:02 PM Comments comments (2)

Up in North Texas

Up in North Texas a polar wind rips the flesh off the plains

Curves flattened by its icy blade

It’s a Blue Norther’

Nail the tarp over the windows

Line up bottles of water under the kitchen counter & lock the doors

A box of matches sits vigilant near a Coleman lantern

White candles offer their bottoms to the circles of cracked saucers

The radio snaps and whistles like wind through electric lines

Even if th...

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Posted by donna snyder on May 6, 2009 at 5:28 PM Comments comments (2)


Soft brown flesh inside purple satin


Manuela wears elegant clothes each day


She cleans the office where I work




She toils for little money and less praise



Manuela keeps the floors clean and fresh


the patios free of debris and drunks




Outside she labors in the El Paso sun


Manuela's sweat ...

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power spoken through a particular body

Posted by donna snyder on May 6, 2009 at 5:14 PM Comments comments (2)


uncontrolled speech

something about Melek

the peacock angel

prophetic poetry as voice of the seer

areligious or perhaps without faith

a diagnosis of the culture or civilization


power spoken through a particular body

a voice used to create enlightenment

the power of creation and destruction

a witness to the duality

the dualities

maybe even a televangelist

its all mysticism just the ...

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it's the end of the world and I can't find my keys

Posted by donna snyder on May 6, 2009 at 1:09 PM Comments comments (5)

It's the end of the world and I can’t find my keys

The car won’t work

No one remembers I’m still alive

My old dogs are buried in blankets in the back yard

My family either dead or apathetic

Once my parents died no one ever called

Now the end is come and we don’t know who we are

The husband I left is as gone to me as the one who died

The one who still lives has lost his will to do so

His mind is gone leaving nothing...

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fat beauty

Posted by donna snyder on May 5, 2009 at 12:27 PM Comments comments (9)




Fat Beauty


There on the altar next to the mirror encrusted with shells

is propped the photograph

a photograph of la Roseanne

Annie Liebowitz shot a series of Roseanne

her abundant flesh beautiful in its vastness

Black lace bleeds across her corpulence

She lolls across a bed looking like a painting by Botero

lush flesh naked in its glossy glory

Edible fruit demands the caress of moist lips...

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a little bit rapunzel

Posted by donna snyder on May 4, 2009 at 8:54 PM Comments comments (6)



I am my family?s restitution paid

My mother coveted another?s garden

The mother traitor


Given over  to Herself as comfort

Herself the fierce and ugly aspect

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a universe of inky hair

Posted by donna snyder on May 2, 2009 at 9:14 PM Comments comments (11)

A universe of inky hair

a gypsy woman plays her violin and sings

she wears the night sky in the universe of her hair

her chemise is a milky way her brooch a silver moon

she croons into the dark corners of existence

"hold onto the night/there will be no shame"

a night rainbow promises peace and rare delights

gypsy music echoes in the canyons of the moon

memories entice exotic as the seven seas intimate as home

old f...

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