Stephanie Souter Poems

On a cold steaming night
All was dark not even one light

Look down the street and you would see
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Stone cold showers
The definate flowers
Mothers powers
Lingering for hours
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Walk the trails to reach the gliding water
floating into my groove the water chilled
Wine and crackers for the feast
joy of life for desert
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Is this correct?
For me to never have the river on my soft skin.
When the hour where the flow of warm water from within.... provides not a single drop.....am i to dismiss it. Am i to leave my bare skin dry. I do not want my snowy emotions to trample the beautiful daisy but when the time off need is calling to show my watery eyes. Not in a show of a reaction but of realness.
Even when the worst has really happened, the end of a standing tree. An old wise tree with a personality that could sooth the river to sleep. For when she lie in front of me with herself on display for the last time, i was not able to feed the river with anything other than the cookies served in the lobby. I am ashamed of this horrible dry desert.....no longer can i bare myself to not have the droplets. It is weird to say that i will let the river flow when there is no connection to the vast waters.
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A cracked TV screen
But the picture still clean

Draped in black
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(When you see a capital in the poem then that is a start of a new line. just know that when you are reading it)
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To hear him speak,
Would be a short breath from scream.
For the way to a mans heart is through his stomach.
It looks nothing like the picture my daughter drew for me today.
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I woke my sences when the sun came out,
Later than i knew my eyes would stay shut.
I long for a gaze of anouther on the chilled pillow by mine,
but i dont know how i would comprehend warming the pillow with anouther.
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When your mind is like a twister

merky pond water in your eyes
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Three stalls
where i go when i cant go home

Three stalls
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