#tara's poetry

[tarabyte3]

Happy National Poetry Month! To celebrate, I'm going to occasionally post some of my own poetry here 🩷

[plain text below]

To Yearn

I am a mountain, but not

with you. For you I am

prairie grass, bent

and easily swayed

by the slightest breeze—

helpless to its whims.

When you speak

I bow before you

because it is my nature

to yield to your breath.

To let it move me.

I tell myself, “I am rock.”

“Be stone,” I say.

“Just this once, be

rough and rigid.”

Even then I erode

for you. Soften until

I am not rock, but clay.

I carry the impression

of you into the world

on my lips. My breast.

That is the essence

of yearning—to transform.

To become undone.

If you touched me

I could be anything.

- March, 2019

[stay-close]

Allow yourself to mourn the loss of love, and heal from those wounds. Don’t run into the arms of another lover, you will not find peace there: you will only accumulate more to heal from.

Tara Rose

[havingapoemwithyou]

morning love poem by Tara Skurtu

[thoughtkick]

I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.

Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow

[perfectquote]

I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.

Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow

[thehopefulquotes]

I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.

Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow

[surqrised]

You’re chaos and order and everything in between. Like sunshine kept back by clouds. Like the entire world’s imploded inside you, but all I see are the stars are sewn into your skin. You’re filled with soft, dark music.

Tara Sim, Timekeeper

[quotefeeling]

Let your heart lead you, do not be afraid, for there will be much to regret if reason and sense and fear are your only markers.

Tara Conklin, The House Girl

[perfectfeelings]

I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.

Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow

[resqectable]

Allow yourself to mourn the loss of love, and heal from those wounds. Don’t run into the arms of another lover, you will not find peace there: you will only accumulate more to heal from.

Tara Rose

[heavenlyyshecomes]

Tara Monjazeb, Drinking Coffee in a Church, in The Atlantic

[tarabyte3]

Having a terrible headspace/imposter syndrome/continued writer's block day. So have some more of my poetry instead. No pretty graphics this time. Just 4 poems with a decade between them.

I am lily-like,

To the Gardener

open and blushing, petals

speckled in salmon.

I want you to cup

and caress my blossom face,

the curve of throat down

to my long-stemmed sway

of hips, full figured flora

ready for pollen.

Pistil and stamen,

yellow fingers stretched outward

from their corolla

casing to bathe in

raindrops and breezes. Pluck me,

roots and bulb heavy.

Inhale my flower

sex—fragrant. Waiting for you

to see my ripeness

and hang me to dry

beside the aster, pansy,

rose, chrysanthemum.

- March, 2010

The Buried

The ivy here reaches up

like many greedy hands

groping stone, embraced

in a patient game of tug of war.

At every turn there are dunes

of vines, erratic tangled masses

where the ivy has won,

burying the plaques

like their patrons

interred below.

We are, all of us,

returned to the earth.

Not through a yawning chasm,

but boxed neatly and regifted.

Some are charred to ash

and dust and scattered, ghosts

of embers catching wind gusts

until they settle, are swallowed

still by dirt. By inevitability.

Though our markers and monuments

are lost to time, the ground

never forgets us. It carries

the memory of our bones

in soil and tells the living,

"This was life once, too."

- October, 2020

To the Moon

I have seen a full moon drive a man

crazy as a woman can, so you must

be a woman with thick red hair.

The Greeks call you Selene—

brightness, moon-faced woman,

curved, voluptuous night figure.

My body swells as you do, waxes

to fullness each month

until we are emptied and new.

You must be a woman who knows

how dark the world can be

on a moonless night—

I have watched men crying

for the moon in alleyways

at two in the morning.

- April, 2010

Light

I want to be a light.

I want to burn, beacon

bright and leave

neon shadows behind

your eyelids when you look

away. The impression

of me more than an echo.

A brand. A memory

that sharpens into focus

whenever you smell

my perfume in a crowded

grocery store or hear

raindrops patter rhythms

on your windshield.

You see, light leaks

when it's strong enough

and I want to leave you

with enough to brighten

anywhere you might go.

- February, 2020

[stay-close]

I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.

Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow

[nightlyquotes]

Allow yourself to mourn the loss of love, and heal from those wounds. Don’t run into the arms of another lover, you will not find peace there: you will only accumulate more to heal from.

Tara Rose

[thoughtkick]

I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.

Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow

[perfectquote]

I’ve spent so much time in my head and in my heart that I forgot to live in my body.

Tara Hardy, Bone Marrow