The August First Featured Poet is Teresa Frazee
Please feel free to email Teresa at: teresafrazee@yahoo.com
SEPIA MIST
He came into view, a lifetime in his young eyes
Something familiar about this child in front of me
Blind thoughts and fears stirred, for I rightly knew his face
Watched as his shallow breath rose and fell in apathy
My expiring limbs moved closer, to make sure
I found he was no stranger, this child who bore my name
Heart-piercing memories circled through time and space
Aged man, adult and youth, we were one in the same
Seeking answers, I waited for his eyes to translate
Our strengthless hands clasped, he led the way, his pulse mine
Into the sepia mist, made our pilgrimage home
As we paced along, I saw our shadows entwine
The fabric of my yesterdays began to tear
And scattered the fine threads of life buried in the past
Without boundaries, exposing all the impulsive years
Through seasons of sin where veils of darkness trespassed
In slow motion lost decades once known drifted by
Revived days and nights, emotions too hard to bear
Sorted images of the past hovered above me
Then receded out of sight and melted into thin air
We trampled upon the frozen weeds of consciousness
His little hand guided me through those early years of mine
Caught the scent of honeysuckle on white summer tee’s
Like apparitions they swayed on the frayed backyard line
Down the path of my life, we continued to travel
By the garden gate where I once had argued heaven’s will
Heard things that are best left between a man and his God
Vows in the equinox of life never to fulfill
Sifted through ashes of those who have already crossed
As groaning echoes of souls left behind filled the air
I read the quivering lips of those lost in reason
Foolish pleas whispered in mortalities impatient ear
As we went, I was weaned off my present appearance
And so once again the warm glow of youth kissed my face
Newly transformed, I became younger and younger
In a backward glance, saw my old life gone without a trace
Dressed in the past, our tiny feet skipped across the pavement
Over cracks in the sidewalks along the playground’s edge
Felt this all knowing dimension of time overwhelm me
Domestic cares out of my reach, now dangle from the ledge
Free to run round and round as wonderment filled my heart
Children chased soft summer shadows too transient to last
A voice echoed, “Come out, come out wherever you are”
As toy arrows with rubber tips went flying past
Golden sandboxes full of tots renewed their joyous tone
A small boy on a swing asked, “Are you ready to play?”
Imaginary kings were jostled amid fields of light
Made the long journey backward to this eternal day
Rediscovered innocence on the outskirts of life
Home again, rooted in a perpetual place
No need to turn back to the things that concern me no more
Here now among my young peers where histories erase
CLOSE TO THE EDGE
We’re maverick spirits who live in the reflection
Of are very own recreated reality
The go-betweens of society and the divine
Refugees lured by our brand of immortality
Sequestered by compulsive artistic potency
Inner most recesses of the soul are revealed
As cross-stroked scarlets ripple primordially
Not losing a moment, tedium’s tracks now concealed
Painted shades of antique gold nuzzle close to the edge
A slow steady possession bleeds black into white
And crackles under the surge of a driven Muse
Who exists in the fiery dust of split light
In a pool of seamless opalescent mediums
An endangered flow of reds struggle to survive
Both visible and unseen like ghosts nailed to a wall
Drenched in a cerebral landscape where passions thrive
Teresa Ann Frazee has been a visual artist for over thirty years, with juried and international exhibitions including solo shows in galleries, museums and other venues, receiving many awards and honors. Teresa has also been pursuing her other love, writing.
Teresa has had her work exhibited in the following magazines and books: Literary House Review, Skyline Magazine, Poetry Shelter, The Horror Zine, Twice the Terror, The Horror Zine Anthology, Death Head Grin Magazine and Ebook Anthology, What Fears Become: The Horror Zine Anthology, Aphelion, My Word Wizard, Story Mania and The Original Van Gogh’s Ear.
Teresa is the founder and host of the Boca Raton Museum of Art, Artists’ Guild Poetry Reading Series: “Art & Literature,” author of “New City Souls” Poetry Cabaret and author of Sebastian Kane, performance.
Inside her world of make-believe, she paints and writes what she knows to be true. Bound by the creative force, she leaves reality entirely up to you.