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i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
 Dec 2012 Tasha Gill
Ross
This could be
my love poem
one dedicated to
the ins and outs
the be all and end all
of my dedication to you
in body and mind
but the sparrows in
my chest flutter and chirp
dampening my voice
and the words all warble
and twist

this could be
my love poem
filled with all the
hows, whys, whens
and wheres
of the passion
I feel when touching
your naked flesh
but the electricity
that arcs from your breast
to mine
constricts my larynx
and the words squeak
and squawk

this could be
my love poem
showering you with
the adoration
that, in past times,
brought nations
to war
but my head is filled
with cotton wool
and my eyes take
one last glimpse
of your smile
and the words are
lost in half murmured
barely audible sibilance
 Dec 2012 Tasha Gill
Lady-J
She is the prettiest girl
Nothing would ever change that
It was a new place
And the sun rose above the mountains.
Locals covered the eyes of children
And Christian women cursed;
Something about this girl
Cast a shadow over the world.

Down at the Lakeview Cafe
Where the tips were generous
People caressed their cups
And spoke of that girl.

The clouds hinted snowfall.
"Dead," they say.
"Probably not an accident."
A single snowflake landed.
If it could, her blood would tingle.

She was the prettiest girl.
Nothing could ever change that.

#4
 Dec 2012 Tasha Gill
Thomas Carew
This little vault, this narrow room,
Of Love and Beauty is the tomb;
The dawning beam, that ‘gan to clear
Our clouded sky, lies darken’d here,
For ever set to us: by Death
Sent to enflame the World Beneath.
’Twas but a bud, yet did contain
More sweetness than shall spring again;
A budding Star, that might have grown
Into a Sun when it had blown.
This hopeful Beauty did create
New life in Love’s declining state;
But now his empire ends, and we
From fire and wounding darts are free;
  His brand, his bow, let no man fear:
  The flames, the arrows, all lie here.
Don't be square,
Walk a bit to make you uncomfortable
Razor-sharp trees shade this ocean, lapping against the cloudy sand
Paint your pained expression on me with a whisper

My tired eyes begin wandering along beach-sleepers in their Blanket Body Bags

Different set of problems

Her to-go box looks expensive
He hopes she'll "put-out".
The flicker of fabric among our intertwined bodies.
How could something so faultless
Like the missing key, snuggly fitting my chest
Possibly be wrong?

Please hold me closer one last time.
Let me smell your ebbing love
That makes every hair on my body reach on end.

Just one last time, run your fingers through my hair
Like claws catching me again, and again.
Tell me to come nearer, and wrap your mind around me.

Don’t forget these extensions of us.

Before I know it, we will return to our posts—
Averting our eyes as we watch the world dance
And we struggle just to hold ourselves.
 Dec 2012 Tasha Gill
Lady
My Power
 Dec 2012 Tasha Gill
Lady
Am I intended to be jealous?
Should I have such contradicting emotions?
You confuse me, dear love.
“I love you”, is your claim,
But I am tangled, twisted, feeling tiny-
Like a bump on a twig, grown out of a branch
Among all the branches of your large tree called concerns.
It is not pleasant;
It is not right to be this way.
You are hurtful, my love.
Why are you not the happy thing they say you should be?

I have longed to find in us what I believe is joy.
So I try my best.
But your actions cut my confidence;
Your words burn my hope.
And still I stay close,
As though on a chain.
It’s a leash you’ve created with your manipulation,
Your way of leaving me without self esteem
And your false cadences of affection.
So this is how you wound me.

And now I resist.
I hold my shaking hand up and finally declare,
“You can not make me feel this way.”
Did God give you this right?
Did He entitle you to my heart,
And along with it present to you authority to do as you will?
I dare say no;
I dare say he gave to me that place.
So at last, I will not let you do as you have any longer.
I refuse to be so small.
I end this.
And I dare say I am allowed to find real happiness now.
 Dec 2012 Tasha Gill
Oli Nejad
So it’s about half ten
And my then friend, Ben
Is walking with me to the shops.
We chat **** about lit
As we’re acquainted through college.
So together we’re relatively
Secure in the knowledge
That at least we can agree
On poetry.

As I flip my wrist
To look at my watch
I turn back to notice
That Ben has stopped.
He’s gazing amazed at
An open front door
That’s bustling with boozers
And music that soars.

“Let’s crash it!” Ben demands
Like the house party fascist that he is,
But I have to admit
That my state was somewhat ufit
To be called ‘responsibly sober.’
So with a heavy eyed grin
I say “OK, let’s go in”
And together we both wander over.

As we move through the ranks
Of the bodies that flank us,
Past the guy with a guitar,
That we could hear from afar,
And the girl who sits just there by the wall,
Twirls her hair whilst absently staring
Into a beer,

We stumble upon the kitchen.

Here the music is nearer
And after an hour passes,
Along with some clear glasses
Of spirits and wine,
We think we’re fine
But then, it suddenly hits me.

We’re crashers, I remember
And as if our agenda was destined to fail,
We would now have to bail,
As just when we make a mission
Out of appearing exempt from suspicion
As if by intuition, some bloke asks casually:

“So how do you guys know Dave then?”

Ben decides to aid by looking artfully away
Whilst scratching his *****,
So it seems to me
That the responsibility falls…
“Dave!” I say, looking absently away,
“We go way back make man,
Holidays in Cornwall and that,
Y’know, caravans?”

The bloke goes away,
Presumably in search
Of the mysterious Dave,
And so I turn to Ben and say “Go mate!
We’ve been made!”
We bolt for the door past the prep lads,
The muso and a chap on the floor,
Ben’s grabbing bottles and **** as he goes,
When I hear a voice ask aloud
“Hey Dave do you know those two?”

Hiding our faces we pick up the pace,
Pushing our way to a tidy escape.
We burst out the door and onto the street,
Finding it hard to stay firm on our feet.
Despite getting myself caught on the garden gate,
It has to be said,

Best party to date.
 Dec 2012 Tasha Gill
Jon Martin
Someday, you will find these words,
And I hope you find them wise.
Someday you will read this verse,
With old, and tired eyes.
One day I will write a song,
That's happy, just for you.
And if you've ever known me, love,
You'll see me in that, too.
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