MARINA GIPPS

Rookie (Chicago, Illinois)

MARINA GIPPS Poems

1. The Beginning Of Our Picture 11/13/2005
2. Scapegoat 11/13/2005
3. Digging Up A Beehive 3/5/2006
4. December 31st 3/5/2006
5. Terrestrial Effect 3/5/2006
6. Atlantic Ashes, Petty Thievery 3/8/2006
7. Doctor Death 3/13/2006
8. Waiting To Read 3/14/2006
9. Symbiosis 4/4/2006
10. Hell 9/26/2006
11. Eclipse (In Memory Of William Harrold) 9/26/2006
12. The Hackeyed Road Narrows 9/26/2006
13. Waterclock 3/5/2006
14. Circus Of The Impossible 3/5/2006
15. Professor In The Mirror 3/5/2006
16. Departure 3/5/2006
17. Corncob 3/5/2006
18. Oak Park 3/5/2006
19. Little Shrine For The Disbelievers 3/5/2006
20. To A Fallen Oak 3/5/2006
21. Hellhole Winter 3/5/2006
22. Truth 3/5/2006
23. The Abortion 3/5/2006
24. Blood Fever 3/5/2006
25. Semi-Automatic Assault Rifle 3/5/2006
26. First Fall 3/5/2006
27. Revised: Hellhole Winter 3/5/2006
28. A Face 9/19/2006
29. Crimson Solitaire 9/24/2006
30. Rainfall 3/3/2006
31. A Prophesy 3/3/2006
32. Unrequited Water Blooms 3/3/2006
33. Drowse Note 3/3/2006
34. As If 3/3/2006
35. Down Hidden Drive 3/3/2006
36. At The Altar 3/3/2006
37. By Unseen Hands 3/3/2006
38. Hilse 3/4/2006
39. Camp Wilderness 3/4/2006
40. Hitchhiking To Peru 3/5/2006
Best Poem of MARINA GIPPS

A Day At The Pink Beach

An umbrella being dragged at the day's end.

A seagull churns its wings,
avoiding sunlight,
the hard flight of Icarus.

Pink swimsuits blown in the wind,
in search of due course.

Time is needy, a bronzed babe walks by, a regular
statue of Liberty, her flesh turning to
green palor as the water cools.

In this empty beach dream of deepening sky,
the wet Kremlin and White House

are eroded as our childless hopes.

An old woman collects
seashells-caverns of poverty
to be sold to our deaf ears.
The ocean roars of stolen property.

Read the full of A Day At The Pink Beach

December 31st

Black glove at my neck- the end of the year.
Those lovers were soldiers, bed spies,
bombs of leg losing, the mind dropping in one blow.

Masters of bullets, sacred sabotage, reasons why
I listened to the radio blaring the sweet song
of someone else's bad news.

Voices of valleys in the distance,

[Report Error]