Melanie Grant Poems

I sat in the solitude of the windowsill

Staring onto the horizon
...

The boulevard
draped with autumn’s colourful coat
the eccentric season.
Leaves like little embers
...

I put all anger and envy
in a little sack
and swung it over my shoulder
and onto my back
...

Standing in the Garden;
Lingering in the dim light
of this Cimmerian shade
between two eve’s
...

A dream…
lined the walls of my mind with cryptic emotions
and muted my sense of self-understanding
Confined in these hollow shafts
...

Hope is an opium pipe
smoked by a broken soldier
trying to ease the pain
of the wounds from
...