Author Archives: TheRealTamara

For an opinionated woman such as I, blogging is an excellent outlet. This is one of many fori that I use to bloviate. Enjoy! Comment on my commentary.

Passion

Love is a ritual, a
Way of living; we
Indulge it since it
Gives us pleasure.
It sparks in us and
We are urged by it.
There is urgency in
Loving, its passion
Fulfills not just us
But our object as
Well. Love feels oh
So good and real.
Those in love feel
Special as if their
Chemical attraction 
Were ordained. Any
Proclamation of a
Passion makes an
Audience go "aww."
Kiss me in public on
The jumbotron and
Everyone approves
Our mutual desires.
Hug me on a street
And the corner lights
Our way. Enjoy it we
Say when vows are
Pledged. This is life. 
When we've run out of words
Or words cease to be enough
What will we do? How will we
Say I care, I love, you matter?
Where will our hearts go when
The words aren't there? They
Will run down our hands and
Drip out from our fingertips

Mourning

I will mourn you when
You're gone, and those
Rites of your passing 
Allow my grief out from
The volcano the furnace
The seismic pressure
I am holding together
While you live each day
As less of who you are
Diminished, diminishing 
Lost but still here, still
Mine, not fully mine, and
Not always lost. Still
Funny, silly, bitter, and 
Yes, still sweet. My love
No longer the helpmate,
The lover, the champion
Of our lives. Still lost. I
Will mourn you now and
Then. I will mourn. Now

Six in the wings

Talk Up

Condescension is a deep disrespect 
Youngsters need never be talked 
Down to and oldsters should always
Be heard. There is no up or down 
Only the sideways of conversation. 
Hear me out on this. I speak from 
The heart but I consult my head as
Well. I do not deem to condescend.

Crocuses

Intimations of spring have
Gone with that season, the
Crocuses withdrawing into
The earth. Leaves drop now,
Changing like faded memory,
Fleeing the balding trees and
Waiting for snow to blanket
Them and keep them warm
Against winter's bluster. Time
Is sometimes kinder, or harsh
Like those rippling winds that
Nip at bared faces and foretell
The long, dreaded cold to come





Does It Matter





Does it matter if we shudder
In delight or fear? The body
Is versatile, owning shivers
Of pleasure as surely as ones 
Feeling the cold. Sensation 
Should be intimate, personal,
Ours not any strangers with
Whom we share a moment or,
Just as random,  spend a life. 





One Day





One day, I awoke from
Dreams of aspiration,
Of awe and admiration.
I simply stepped into a
Life of contentment. It
Was as if that box I pulled
Down from the shelf held
One more recipe. Add a
Pinch of cinnamon and
Find in it the happiness 
That eludes. Accept the
Gift. Savor all moments.
Dreams or nightmares,
They are you, waking or
Asleep, it is all the same.





The Observer





If I observe you, will you
Sit still until I have drawn
Every sinew of your hands
Til I have mastered your
Face with the strokes of
My pen or painted your
Lips in watercolors. If I
Am the observer I must
Also be the artist who
Captures your body and
Spirit, all the important
Details, all the fine lines.
When I observe you, will
You lie still until I see 
You complete, until I
Sculpt or paint or just
Tell your features for
Posterity and for now.
You are loved. You will
Not be trapped on my
Canvas. I will free you.
My gaze will free you.





Untitled 





Sometimes life steals from us, little by little.
It takes our ambition, our dignity, our honor.
Accomplishments and pride slip away, hide
In the attic or slide into the cellar, even when
We have no cellar, and the attic is just an old
Worn down trunk. We have no place to go to
Any more; all that we were goes no place too.
Sometimes life steals from us, little by little.
It takes our ambition, our dignity, our honor.
Accomplishments and pride slip away, hide
In the attic or slide into the cellar, even when
We have no cellar, and the attic is just an old
Worn down trunk. We have no place to go to
Any more; all that we were goes no place too.

1. My Mark

Withdrawn

I trust my vision to 
Others, that's why
I hit publish so fast.
Unsure if what I say
Will land or stand.
Sharing it with you
Is all I can do. I feel
Like Florence Foster
Jenkins, promoting 
My shakiest high 
Notes. Sending my
Thoughts, my poems
To the ether of the
Internet is my social 
Act, making my mark,
Making it -whatever
It may be- sing or fly
Poem 2 Cloud Cover

My head is up in
The clouds as I
Have so often told
You, that collective
You to whom I write
For whom I write.
The clouds are my
Magic carpet, my 
Highway to heaven.
A route so ephemeral 
I fear to tread on its
Soft shoulders and
Wonder where they
Will take me just as
I wonder where they
Have gone as they 
Float by and away.

	


	







	

		
3. Profound/Ordinary
	


	
	

		

Submitted. Withdrawn





I have been prolific,
Writing poems of
Maturity, of aging,
Poetry of memory,
Poems of mortality.
I have loved on paper
As in life. Wanted and
Longed. Remembered.
I have written it all
Down, to share with
You. My poems tell
Stories, paint scenes,
Sometimes profound,
Most often mundane.
That is what a life is.
That is how ours goes,
From heights of drama
To the ordinary, the 
Beautiful. The every day.

	


	





	

		
4. Few Words
	


	
	

		

Submission withdrawn





This is my bid for immortality. 
Leaving behind a few words.
Savoring life in poems, writing
It all down. Ideas writ large or
More often small in just so many
Words. They spill out over all
Life's many topics. There's 
Love, of course, and what you
Chose for dinner. My awe can
Overwhelm my poetry. Fear is
In there too; fear of losses,  big
More often tiny or petty. They
All matter. To me, to you. To us.

	


	





	

		
Dreams
	


	
	

		

Day or night, some of us are
Dreamers or sceamers, some
Plan some plot. Daydreams 
Are the hopeful kind, the ones
Full of wishes and whims, of
Things we want and maybe
Don't know. Desires hidden a
Bit deeper than fears, those 
Come out in the darkness. We
Call them nightmares, in honor
Of a medieval evil spirit, said 
To smother sleepers. Dream
In the daylight and let your 
Sunshine shine in, dodge the
Malevolent "mare." Be ye of
Good cheer. Dream well and
In peace, in good company.
Day dreams are the hopeful
Kind, where desires are met