“Mark My Words” – Poem By: Heather Whitley Gibson 11/7/2012

mark my words
mark my words.
with red
or a cross.
however you can
mark my words
with time, a
calendar, a voice
scar it. rip it away.
mark my words
call it out lies.
dismember it’s ties.
just mark it. my words
spit on the ink;
let it run
down, let it
bleed out. drain,
my pen, just marked
my words

“The Word Prayer” – Poem By: Heather Whitley Gibson

a love everlasting
until death arrives
at your answering
a phone call
the taste of coffee
minutes ago
at peace
vibrates like
a cliche quote
it hits your skin
like an advertisement
writing a song
a poem
suddenly, easily stated
the word prayer
sounds like a cheap wig
my grandmother
can not speak
her words are understood
moving lips
at nothing
honest forms in words
death kills
letters open hearts


“Books In Barrels” – Poem By: Ronnie Gibson

dark man dances
fallen faces, cocked eyes
upside down, sideways
brick road, crumbles
entrails swing, swaying
ice blocks – melting sun
lips suck, fluid
freely flowing blood
dripping on pedals, flowers
I came, I left, right
books in barrels
overflow of words
four lettered, smut
greased flour molds
breaded spines, discs
our feet hold candles
light the forest, bright site
books in barrels
reading one, burning
no words allowed
whale oil burns
to read books in barrels

“In The Middle Of A Flower” – Poem By: Heather Whitley Gibson


an argument
in the middle of a flower
pouring cold – water Onto
something that grows
clearing up that glass
none less the
dangles on none
and lines, cheekbones
trying to see
hooking, polishing
new leaves backwards
pretty outside – inside
it’s dying parts
windows bought
then leaned against
the pier
honing in the, clarity
from forms fired from
readjusting prescriptions
just struggling to organize
it’s growth
against bones bent
crawls and bends
threw holes and ties
creating, making it’s stoplights
comfortably thwarts beautification
with worms that crawl
threw stitching underneath soil
muddying things
seeing unknown things
overseen in photos (so synthetic)
lovely things overheard
adjusting redundant things
in growth
like the neck of a vase
the center of the flower
stares in it’s own way
with you, as
tymes narrow under sunlight
an argument
in the middle of a flower


“Words” – Poem By: Ronnie Gibson


words roll off my tongue
crushing feelings
bones crushed
my mind is warped
open yet closed
the sword cuts skin
so soft, so smooth
anger catapults logic
wounds opened, never healed
must I burn, I must
never lose love
motion must stop, silent
removed moon leaves darkness
loving you more, hurting
kills me total
no heart beats
emotions lost
anger receives it’s payment
everything lost over words
revived love, a must
our drained brains
words crush feelings
bones crushed
all from words


“The Gods” – Poem By: Heather Whitley Gibson

Here comes Zeus in his zuit suit
Hercules in all his glory
hot and bothered, looks for Venus
history and poetry
standing at the Mayan temple
watch them sacrifice a child
Egyptians prepare a mummy
watch out the gods are on fire
all chant when the sun shines bright
the gods, the moon, the night
looking at the stars and Mars
watching Aztecs playing ball
voices speak to Persephone
George is singing my sweet lord
everyone try’s to stand tall
even when their idols fall
what you must do against all odds
is try your best to worship the gods
some people take time to pray
pray to Billy Holiday
some even praise animals
to stop sky and thunder from falling
and after the day is done
some pray to Jim Morrison
walk to the door and turn the knob
drop to your knees and worship the gods
muses mount the Trojan horses
pyramids and the white house
Apollo take your pick
shine your tongue and join the mob
drop to your knees and worship the gods

“Peninsula” – Poem by Heather Whitley Gibson


Camera; seen

armed with needles so

sweet sounding; peninsula

soft & Foxed in insular

Mellisonant, a weeded field.

water torn; clear flight

a wonton wing; fortune cookies

proverbs sealed.

 Edges of mouths part; crusted

cracked, razing sun,


vaulted words crunched.

scratched days.

Sweet Memento

rusted kisses; silver

A candied ending.

Where Love flows;


and whirling. A shot-gun

display closed.

 sold four

tribute money

then pictured; in a hard-bound book.

leaves dried and covered, lost..

left to left, sonorous;

in Gold.

still waiting at a willing well.

A dime-store summary.

The foundress of affairs.

Blessings and fortune falls.

behind a grateful glass view;

watching the sun nest,

winds and doves

 shillings. fly. stencilled.

 As scales shimmer, as

an aperture increasing;

Vows Quenched.

memoria Bound.

“Dying Breath” – Poem By: Day Dreams

On a road full of cobblestone dust,
Trapped in a world cruel and unjust.

Left behind emotions of bitter sorrow,
What was lost today can not be found in tomorrow.

Listening to words so bitter sweet,
Bruised and battered in a world one can not beat.

Unloved and left behind,
In a world so unkind.

Stuffed in a corner and left alone,
Slowly reaping what one has sown.

Breathing a dying breath in a world of hate,
And slowly slipping into an unconscious state.

Click On More Poems By This Poet

“Has Been” – By: Heather Whitley Gibson

I felt this morning like a has been
rolling over on my spine
it hurts
it feels like needles
from a porcupine
my back, and rear
two hours before
rubbing up against
mu husband’s butt
but two hours later
I can feel it stinging
like a tail bone
curled, still hanging
with nerves
like my stepmother’s cells
curled up
it needs surgery
someone take it out