Category: photography

Grateful

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grateful
for the holding
for this time-worn fabric
for the rough and frayed of life lived
that caught the edges of unraveled scarf
violently tossed by tempest’s wind
calming the storm within
for this sticking
grateful

~

Words and Photography ©2019 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Entry posted in poetry & Rictameter Verse.

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A Sensual Deposit

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there’s a place the pollen falls
when the rest of life has scattered
whirled away
by strong, spring breezes
in miniature vortexes
seeking bull’s-eye releases
among distant flower beds

there’s a place the pollen falls
this sperm—stuck to the honey bee’s
strong legs—
is carried
to soft, blushing petals
open wide
and waiting

there’s a place the pollen falls
filling empty spaces
when winged lover
devours the nectar
and—by Nature’s lush design—
makes sensual deposit
that leaves gametes
inside

~

Words and Photography ©2019 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse.

A Little…

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a little lost
a little hurt
a little crushed by life
I am
a little…
hope a little
laugh a little

thrive

~

Selfie from the edge.
#nofilter

~

Words and Photography ©2019 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry , healing, & free verse.

Beyond the Wall

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scars untouched
like stars unseen
in the neglected wastelands
exist
where no cultured eye sees
pain persists
beyond the wall

see no evil
hear no evil
speak no evil
touch no unclean thing
hide
behind the wall
of
ignorance
bigotry
greed
and
pride

there thrive
fattened
off the fattened meats
hoarded

while the wall is boarded

hunger exists
pure
real
aching
a chorus in the wilderness
of empty-belly pleas
that reverberate off a civilized wall
unheard

scars untouched
radiate pain
through the midnight wasteland
the loveliest stars
by industrial giants’
smog-clouded,
wall-protected
eyes
unseen

~

Words and Photography ©2019 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry,  free verse, & human rights.

The Watch

.Reading time 1 minute.

steadfast watch from the writer’s tower
time ticks
too fast
toward its endgame bomb
boom
no life escapes that room
boom
then doom
or nothing
or a room
boom

the living colors
of the clock
face
outward
but
the clock does its ticking
inside
the weathering
withering
heat
beats

you have yours
I have mine
watches, I mean

time ticks for everyone
boom

still, ticking
mine
in beats profound
gifts
wrapped in crimson ribbons
rhythms
flow
from a faithful tower
full
the watch
watches
the pen
records the beats
in words
profound
found
only by one quick on the uptick
of time

the writer
watches
watches
tick
in aging towers
boom

~

Words and Photography ©2019 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse.