Category: Poetry

Bring Me Back

The perfect drizzle
defines the line between today and tomorrow
A morose specimen,
far too endearing to share with our peers
peers out of its receptacle;
a chill destroys its resolve
“if only pigs could fly,
then I’d get myself out of this darned mess.”
It thinks, unwillingly.

The home of a collector
is not to be taken lightly
on days where the sun’s power dwindles
and the comings of months of death
appear on the horizon.

One step at a time,
it creeps, occasionally lurching
towards a white cover of bliss.
Brought back to the silence
of a city’s breath drawn again
when a cloak of winter descends
leaving everything amiss.

At times, when the sea of stars seems
to lose itself in the vastness of the night
I’ve often longed to hear crisp footsteps,
ones I’ve dreamt of ad nauseam;
despite the harsh and cruel winter,
they echo the sound of my love’s path
finally finding its way back
into the warmth of my tender embrace.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Fabricated Sorrow

What is it, about being a woman
that drives us, to feel lust
nay, neediness, longing, expectations
of the opposite sex
to WANT, to need, to succumb
to loving us?

It’s like taking the first hit;
wanting every moment
to inevitably feel like the next.
A drug of the heart, a survivalist’s wet dream,
suddenly the nightmare of the other.

I loathe the void I’ve created
within the absence you’ve brought;
the coward who parades around
as a hearty lion, navy suit astounding
the driver of slumber long deceased
brought back to life in a dusty dream.

Nothing is everything,
it all resonates like bass hitting a temple
wishing for change, but unwilling to understand;
the dance slowly dies
as the reality of one love lost
bites the dust, of poetic abstinence.

Heed a lonely cry, in the distance
a single ring on a finger
symbolism of something so untrue
it might as well be dead.

I’ll die too young
to see the fruition of your honesty.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

September and I

Life is crisp in the fall;
transformative times of leaves and tea
a cozy mess of understanding and love
where blue skies meet orange ents
and wasps formerly flew up mountains.

The greenery seems to take on
a hue of gold and hydromel,
beckoning the old gods to come forth
and sip from her offerings.

Seasonal fruits lose their passion
and brutish cucurbits resurface in troves
eager to potage their way
into hungry city-dweller’s lives.

From the inside of my glass cage,
nothing seems all that different:
the sun’s rays hit me in all the same places
but when the doors open again,
the wind will no longer be warm.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Absences & Influences

An absence of the mind,
brings thoughtful possessions
of dancing tongues
to a staggering halt
at the foot of a mountain.

A mountain of emotions,
so steep and slippery and tall
one might as well be swallowing soap
and trying to fly upwards
floating atop bubbles of bile.

An influence of the Universe,
vast and fearless in her knowledge
pushes Lilith to move on, evermore
beyond understanding and will,
she cries and begs it all to stop.

A peaceful anguish in knowing nothing,
desperately searching for meaning
in the heartache and the projection
of loved ones gone and forgotten,
Lilith stands alone, once more, forever.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Fishing in Cape Breton

Crisp
are the winds
that brought me to you
along the broken path
by the Ocean’s roar.
Jagged
were the rocks
that dangled beneath.
So close
to losing my footing
and slide
towards my demise.
Dangerous drops
rarely lead
to peaceful waters
and yet,
in all my meanderings
I failed to fall.
Rugged
was my resolve
in the hopes
that I too
could balance
on the fine line
that pushes
one foot
after the other
towards
the unknown.
Unfortunate
are those who strive
to maintain happiness
as a constant
instead of a rare pearl.
A thing
to be held close,
cherished
and observed
in moderation.
Happiness
isn’t a fish
you can catch,
but a fleeting moment.
Just breathe it in
and let it go.
Breathe me in…
And let me go.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

A few short poems

A collection of short poems that will otherwise go unpublished, so I’m grouping them together here instead. Some of these have previously been posted to Twitter, so apologies if there is a bit of a repetition.

Half Moon Bay

The roar of the Ocean
Rules and narrow margins.
You stole my heart away
When we were in Half Moon Bay.

Morning Commute

Basic bitches in the back of the bus,
Shit sprawled all over the place.
I’ve never understood pumpkin spice lattes,
Maybe it’s the only spice they get in their lives
Future soccer moms and housewives.

(This was undeniably a morning rant)

Montreal

Ice in the night
Looks like latex
Brought to a shine
By an obedient little slave.

Submission

Subservient Subs
Surrendering Subconsciously
to Subliminal Subspace
like the Subspecies Subordinates
they long to be.

Succubus 1

Cry me your soul,
Let my hands slowly deprive you.
Oxygen fleeing, haggard existence
What does it feel like
To know that when you kiss me,
You are kissing death?

Montebello

A colourless day draws on
In cold observation of privilege
By the light of a dozen flames
Patagonia and Gucci abound
Wood, stone, and stained glass
The Succubus laughs silently
As loveless marriages melt away
On this crisp winter’s day

Melt

Time of spring
Icicles turned water
Frozen again
Time to slip

Bard Bits – Innocence

He marvelled at her innocence
Shining through in the darkness
An ethereal light amongst the shadows
Blissfully cradled in his arms
She was his angelic little slut.

Bee Mine

Darkness before dawn
A wasp flies up a mountain
Spread thighs await

Ode to a Fern

Leaning towards dying foliage
Desperate whispers part my lips
“I’ll cherish you forever.”
Fronds amiss, you sink into oblivion

Succubus 2

Create a void in me, so I lose sight
Embrace the upheaval of my thighs
Mountainous strength from beneath
As I erode myself into your world
Eager monster forsaking the gods
Devouring, until only the shell remains

© 2018 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Mind Over Matter

How does one love?

for is the love of love itself not a confusion,
a disarray of synapses, receiving tiny bolts of information
that make us believe a familiarity, of sorts, can give way
to a rumbling inside that can barely be contained.

But how can this be?

the intensity rises with every thought,
mouth-watering passion, so thick in the air, you can taste it.
I can smell you, kiss you, taste you, breathe you, swallow you…
surely this is not merely a figment, or a chemical imbalance.

Do we ever truly love?

the overwhelming need to bond, and retain our feet on solid ground,
makes one forget that life is more than babbling babes and blue balls
it is adventure; the glance of a flame-haired beauty, across the bar
a piece of silk floating in the window of the forgotten hotel room.

So, what is love, love?

love is the salty taste of your lips after a run
it’s the gentle strength of your hand against my cheek
the softness of your touch when you part my thighs
it is the warmth of your smile when you lose yourself in thought
the fullness of your laughter when you can’t contain your amusement
it is the depth of our souls intertwining, time and time again
but love is also knowing how to let go when our time is up,
just to welcome you back in tender embrace, every time you return
love is knowing that I am yours, beyond convention and expectation
it is knowing that you are mine, and that I hold the key to your heart
even if no one else will ever know, and we are forever worlds apart.

We are love, love.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Until We Meet Again

The raw scent of musky love
Envelops my thighs
My back arches, beckoning your arrival
My legs spread gently,
Always willing and ready
To feed you, my relentless lover.

Hands perched on parted thighs,
Only the most palatable position
For the refined and dedicated palate
Of my energetic connoisseur.
A sigh exhales, a moan soon follows
Etching ancient art
Into the heat of my burning body
A bit of this, a splash of that,
Savouring the many shades that unfold
So deliciously onto your tongue.

Nails digging into shoulders,
You tickle me just right
A timeless creator of the sparks
That ignite the fabric of my being.
Aching…
Come closer, my love,
Please,
Yes, slowly…

The deafening rumbling
Of a wave crashing onto shore,
Parting the seas of my lust,
Electrifying my senses.
I gasp for air,
Insatiable.

Overwhelm me with your love,
Just a little longer…
Deeper.
Harder.
Forever.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Tiny Dancer

A thousand times I could die
Waiting for your love.
A wailing heart brings forth a song,
Of melancholy and mourning
For a love that only exists inside a box.
Unlatching, a tiny dancer turns
In melodic perfection, a pirouette of desire
What goes around, comes around, as they say.
She turns, again and again,
Always facing herself in the end.
Perfect imperfections splattered on a soul,
She’s there, at the tip of a tongue…
Little. Love. Lust. Lilith. Linger…
Never will her step falter,
For her puppeteer knows no other melody,
Save that of forgiveness and sorrow.
Alone, she turns, again and again,
Facing only but herself in the end.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Steps

It takes discipline
To not wallow in the sorrow
Abruptly brought to life by the unknown

One step at a time
We lift our feet and move forward
Ever so slowly, never quickening the pace

A flow of thought
Creeping like a monster in the night
Unable to see reason, trying to devour you

It takes discipline
To hold your ground, steady,
In the face of such worldly adversity

A hunger growing
We reach for the forbidden fruit
Ever so carefully, never tightening the grip

An eye opens
That of the witch, but also the demon
Undaunted by your carelessness, they see all

It takes discipline
To not lose oneself in contemplation
Of things sowed by the heart never sought by the head.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved