{"id":3086,"date":"2017-07-24T03:18:47","date_gmt":"2017-07-24T03:18:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=3086"},"modified":"2017-07-24T03:18:47","modified_gmt":"2017-07-24T03:18:47","slug":"rose-aiello-morales-summer-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/rose-aiello-morales-summer-2017\/","title":{"rendered":"Rose Aiello Morales, Summer 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>Yearly Projections<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Mind\u2019s edge grows wings,<br \/>\nnear, it comes to brinks,<br \/>\nclosed eyes grow wild, rapid movements.<\/p>\n<p>Dreams come with grains,<br \/>\nsalt rubs in lid expanses,<br \/>\nclouds dispense elixirs of truth.<\/p>\n<p>This floater is me, above the heads of ravens<br \/>\nfear falls behind in stuttering step,<br \/>\numbrellas are butterflies who guide my way.<\/p>\n<p>Reason talks in voiceless riddles,<br \/>\nhear, I know the answers,<br \/>\na doorknob sings \u2018neath someone\u2019s fingers.<\/p>\n<p>Clocks guide me to sodden sheets,<br \/>\ngrey calls out its explanations,<br \/>\nsodium upon the wound cries out its contradictions.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>I Fell On\u2026..<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I heard it rolling,<br \/>\nroiling across fertile fields<br \/>\ndelicate in edibles, fish left<br \/>\nstranded on the breach<br \/>\nwhile Agent Orange combed it sideways.<br \/>\nThrough the bald expanses horsemen came<br \/>\nin honor of fulfillment policies<br \/>\nand graphics of a million years,<br \/>\na million monkeys screeched at the results,<br \/>\nglaring from computer screens, buttons of apocalypse<br \/>\nleft long awaiting lesser creatures.<\/p>\n<p>Suns exploded, planets fast imploding<br \/>\nas the detritus flew everywhere,<br \/>\numbrellas lifted high against the plague of nothing,<br \/>\nplacards finally dropped in resolution.<br \/>\nThose who voted inmates as their leaders<br \/>\nwondered where it all went wrong,<br \/>\nwhen no one ever found asylum<br \/>\npackaged sardines waited for tin cans to sail<br \/>\nand they were hit by junk left over from the Star Wars.<\/p>\n<p>Forces weren\u2019t employed, the black days came upon us.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Fore<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Fortitude! She cried,<br \/>\nwondering if her fortune<br \/>\nwould escape her lips forborne.<\/p>\n<p>Before each skipping trip<br \/>\nshe\u2019d be forewarned<br \/>\nfor four times four as all obsessions are.<\/p>\n<p>As she would count the fingers on one hand<br \/>\n(the thumbs, named simply digits, never coming to the fore)<br \/>\nher flapping never warmed the warnings, tepid as the tidings bore.<\/p>\n<p>She jumped into a furious force,<br \/>\nthe tides turned once twice thrice<br \/>\nand then, well, any fool would know.<\/p>\n<p>The sanctity of three was known onto the faithful few,<br \/>\nbut sin left clues in threes, times two, three times<br \/>\nthe mark would show, and it had shown itself before.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Rose Aiello Morales is an almost 60 year old child prodigy. She has been writing poetry since the age of seven, when she was published in the Boonton, NJ town newspaper. It took another 13 years for her to discover that she just might be good at it, and another 30 years to convince other people of that fact. Affirmation has come in the form of having her poetry published in <em>Mad Swirl Magazine, Red Fez, Stray Branch Magazine<\/em>, and <em>Ink, Sweat and Tears Magazine<\/em> among others. Her books are for sale at https:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Rose-Aiello-Morales\/e\/B00BXMTG5O.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Yearly Projections &nbsp; Mind\u2019s edge grows wings, near, it comes to brinks, closed eyes grow wild, rapid movements. Dreams come with grains, salt rubs in lid expanses, clouds dispense elixirs of truth. This floater is me, above the heads of ravens fear falls behind in stuttering step, umbrellas are butterflies who guide my way. Reason [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-3086","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v24.2 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Rose Aiello Morales, Summer 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/rose-aiello-morales-summer-2017\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Rose Aiello Morales, Summer 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Yearly Projections &nbsp; Mind\u2019s edge grows wings, near, it comes to brinks, closed eyes grow wild, rapid movements. 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Dreams come with grains, salt rubs in lid expanses, clouds dispense elixirs of truth. This floater is me, above the heads of ravens fear falls behind in stuttering step, umbrellas are butterflies who guide my way. 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