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.

Cliché

I need a cliché to anchor
My poetry to a real world
To bounce off of what is
Real and what is not, or 
Just to add verisimilitude
To what I say, or maybe to
Add significance to mere
Words, we know that they,
The mere words are not as
Substantial as we expect
Them to be, as we need 
Them to be. Mere words

Yes, dear, I do

Do I miss you, darling?

You, of all people, know.

You know I miss you,

And, even, I’ll bet, how

Deeply I miss you. It is

Intense, this absence of

Yours. Yes, I miss you,

Dear. Yet, also, I live my

Life, a life different from

The one we shared, the

One I miss when I say I miss you, darling, so

Much. I […]

Yes, dear, I do

Because

You are not outside my window
Because
You are inside my home
Because
You are inside my heart
Because 
You are not outside
Because
You are inside 
Because
You are not outside
My window, my heart, my home
Because
You are my home
Because 
You will always be my heart
Because
You are not outside my window
Because
You will always be inside
My heart
Because
You are inside me

Old friends

We were girls together 60 years ago
Today, we can still connect and our
Talk weaves a rug of oft forgotten
Memories, long life news, and there 
Are newer topics to reveal, discuss
Debate. I remember, then it's yours
To recall, or correct my recollection.
As I remember it was always thus,
Even 60 years ago, when first we met,
Conversed, discussed, debated. Yes
There's nothing new under the sun,
As the saying goes, and lots new to
Share, and chew on, now that time, 
So much time, has passed. Tonight
Feels as if 60 years were yesterday

Conversation

You answer in English to what she
Tells you in your mother tongue, it
Is a language you know but cannot
Speak. Not now. Not anymore. Are
There regrets? Not as long as you 
And she can communicate; she is
Able to understand your answer as
You understand her. Conversation
Is easy, even if your words and hers
Are lost in translation. She speaks,
You answer in English; there is a
Pause, it is a comfortable pause.

Joy / Sorrow

Grief mingles with light,
It imposes, pushing its
Way unbidden, just as 
Joy comes without an 
Invitation into sadness.
They are two of a kind,
Unlikely twins of a sort
On the path of feelings,
Emotions on a spectrum
Swinging pendulum-like,
With much less precision
As sorrow is tinged with
Happy memory, missing
Any nuance on the way,
As if it were not nuance 
Enough experiencing the
Extremes all at once, and
Jumbled altogether, a mix
Up, contradictory and odd.

Working, another way

Poets are not a lazy gazy lot, I can 
Attest as I am hard at work putting pen
To page, in the metaphorical custom of
A digital age. I write in deep reflection, thinking 
Hard of what it all means, all– I
mean 
To say– is life itself from beginning to an end we 
Do not want to imagine or foresee, foretelling with the
Same foreboding you feel, an 
end I 
Can see is inevitable even as
I enjoy my walk and
Indulge myself in my doings, coming and 
Goings, as carefree as if there were not
An end in sight.
Working

Working

Poets are not a lazy
Gazy lot, I can attest
As I am hard at work
Putting pen to page,
In the metaphorical
Custom of a digital
Age. I write in deep
Reflection, thinking
Hard of what it all
Means, all-- I mean
To say-- is life itself
From beginning to an
End we do not want
To imagine or foresee,
Foretelling with the
Same foreboding you
Feel, an end I can see
Is inevitable even as
I enjoy my walk and
Indulge myself in my
Doings, coming and 
Goings, as carefree 
As if there were not
An end in sight.

Words

Imagine
Words so plentiful that
Cornucopia does not begin 
To describe their generous abundance
Imagine
Words running long and 
Lush. Never running out, not
Lost in the haze of memory
Imagine
Words that understand every feeling
That picture emotions and
Paint landscapes and color the sky
Imagine