Guest Saturday Poem by Carl Terver

HALIMAT

My palms are laden
With grey memories that
Grow into a lake
I fear I might drown in

Halimat, I want to write
Your name, perhaps on a canvas
But my fingers are sullen

Life is this lake of grey memories
Taming my taste buds
Greying my lobes of passion
Drying my skin of olive

Halimat, will you enkindle
The embers of my lobes,
Dilute these grey memories?
Touch my palm and

Make my fingers tingle
Walk me the length the Muse travels
And turn my memories
To a blooming river

But Halimat, I drown
My palms are laden
with  grey memories

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Carl Terver loves to listen to Bob Marley’s Who The Cap Fits, he’s a young poet and writer.