{"id":4744,"date":"2015-10-22T19:47:19","date_gmt":"2015-10-22T19:47:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/?p=4744"},"modified":"2015-10-22T19:47:19","modified_gmt":"2015-10-22T19:47:19","slug":"hidden-agenda-poems-by-j-ash-gamble","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/hidden-agenda-poems-by-j-ash-gamble\/","title":{"rendered":"Hidden Agenda. Poem(s) by J. “Ash” Gamble."},"content":{"rendered":"

The Pulp<\/em>
\n 
\nOur young fingers used to dig
\nthrough the rough outer shell
\nand find the sweet inner flesh
\nand that’s how we must live now
\neven in these last days of breath.
\n 
\nSay Yes<\/em>
\n 
\nShe enjoyed the chase
\nbut when he dropped the ring
\nin her lap, she had to look out
\nthe window a while and think,
\nholding him up on wires.
\n 
\nHidden Agenda<\/em>
\n 
\nIt lingers, a serpent, right below
\nthe surface of their words, ready
\nalways to strike out with venom.
\n 
\nThe Day He Stopped<\/em>
\n 
\nDamn it, I’m going to stop, he said
\nand she had heard it before. Watched
\nhim at the sink. Knew his well-rehearsed
\nlines. She knew when she left it would
\nbe the same old blinking story.
\n 
\nRassle<\/em>
\n 
\nWe used to call it rassling
\nand pinned each other to the floor
\nnever knowing we let each other
\nwin every time.<\/strong>
\n 
\n\"Benjiman<\/a>
\n <\/p>\n

J. “Ash” Gamble is what might be called a late in life poet. His work has appeared in Dead Snakes and The Poet Community. He is from Ft. Myers, Florida.<\/strong><\/p>\n

 
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\n <\/strong><\/p>\n

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The Pulp   Our young fingers used to dig through the rough outer shell and find the sweet inner flesh and that’s how we must live now even in these last days of breath.   Say Yes   She enjoyed the chase but when he dropped the ring in her lap, she had to look …