Poem By Anthony Dawson

Cream laden valleys
Antarctic canyons and elevations
Whitest milk from the greenest fields;
Impossible neutrality

Her fingers touch only scented souls
Caressing the forests which protect the legs,
Legs entwined as the flowers of passion
Life comes from the salted sea,
A sea which oozes from our skin

The novice he is with her
Rocked steadily as eyes close
A mother is now with him
A mother is in her

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Other poems of DAWSON

Early Morning

Early morning changes my colour,
Weakens my magnet for you to escape into sleep
I asked the girl in the corridor if she was a
Morning bird, she smiled then floated into the


Resist the temptation to yell
as this expression gets under my skin;
I shudder and my soul is disturbed.

The Peach Face In The Clouds From The West

I saw your face,

the peach face;

Broken Backs

I stood amid destruction;

water trickled through corridors and pores emulating tears.

At Least Tommorrow

At least tomorrow I can sleep,

ignore the rapid fury of open eyes rasping my presence.

Factory Work

I can't yet hear the grind of the factory
I have just woken and my heart is racing
My heart is a racing fuse
Today I begin life as someone else