Tanja Cilia

Freelance Writer

Even More Poems

Stop, and Smell the Roses

Butterfly kisses
On the cheek of a newborn
Joy and sorrow flow

Sometimes childhood hurts
Emotional turmoil
Empathy will soothe

The strength of soft hearts
The warm soul of toughness too
Is balm to the soul

The path is winding
An avenue lined with trees
In which hide monsters

Dawns follow each other
Mornings offer myriad dreams
What will be your choice?

Seaside oases
Invigorating pit stops;
Life is not a map

Horizons afar
Hidden by the clouds
Will you find true love?

Cave provides shelter
Rock will give stability
Don’t be led astray

Silence or chaos
In the end the choice is yours
Remember my love.

Please smell the flowers
Bare branches are not forever
Rain and tears unite

Even hard granite
Will erode into soft sand
Given enough time.

Life’s thread will snap soon
Nothing else really matters
Each second counts now.

Ain’t None of My Business… or Yours!

How can I wash clean
Your mind that’s doused with venom
Spat by evil tongues?

Meaningless comments
Misconstrued to mean something…
Suspicions choke love.

False accusations
Stories of a love gone sour…
Because someone lied.

When you say those things
You deepen the wound you made
The first time you did.

You have killed my love
Like poison ivy kills blooms
Stifling them to death.

False accusations
A handkerchief full of tears
God is my witness.

Bad Hair Day

Worms of worry
Drain my brain
Cyclops mirror steals my sleep

Stifling synapses
Throttling thoughts
And smiting ideas

Whirligigs though my mind
Shattered dreams and injured pride
I was taken for a ride… they lied.

Helpless sadness
Hapless madness
Overwhelming tide; hurt pride.

Black tomorrows
Untold sorrows.

Feeling weird
No one cheered; they all jeered
And sneered.

Unfulfilled pledge…
What “cutting edge”?

Replayed scenes
Of
Crumbling castles in the air

Why did I not leave well, alone?

Sad emotions
Darkest notions
Creating doubt and fear…

I hate my green Mohican.

Like a Serpent

Sliding slowly
Slickly slip and
Slither through life.
Slyly staring,
Slit-eyed at Me.
Slimy, surreal,
Slinking stealthily
Spoilt and suave
Suspicious, and smug
Supercilious, and smarmy…
Sylphlike, human, snake.

Love Poem

Love, life, luxury; myrtle, lucerne, horse-chestnut;
Over and over again, bouquets of love.
Viscaria to ask whether you will dance with me forever.
Esteem of sage and
Prune-tree promise, pineapple perfection
Orchids spell out our love
Entwined in honeysuckle bonds of love.
My love for you is all this, and more.

Catching Dreams 

Reach for the stars or cry for the moon?
I’ve raced after memories on the yielding sand.
Later is a lie.
It is not easy to catch a butterfly in a net,
But if I sit still, holding out my hand, palm up,
He will come to rest, folding his wings.
And that is the way I catch dreams bare-handed.
I grasp a handful of sand
And it will flow to flee the force of my pressure.
I cup my hand and it will slowly settle, as always,
In the cusp of my palm.
And that, too, is my way to catch dreams barehanded.
I beat the drums and clash the cymbals;
Making enough noise to thwart my thinking.
Then, I am silent; I take pleasure in the differentiation.
And I catch my dreams bare-handed.
Remember this of me, and smile.

Everybody Says Nobody Says

Everybody says Nobody says that
Any more.
But what Nobody says is that Everybody says
The same thing over and over again
Because a Somebody won’t admit he’s a Nobody
And a Nobody thinks he’s Somebody.
Somebody says that’s right.
Nobody says it’s wrong.
Somebody says it’s wrong.
Nobody says it’s right.
Whom shall we believe?
Somebody says Nobody thinks so.
Nobody says Somebody thinks so.
But that that is, is.
You cannot change that whether
You are a Somebody or a Nobody.
On second thoughts…
Maybe you can.

If Only…

I had my chance and I blew it
I wanted to come… and you knew it.

A resisted temptation is
A missed opportunity.

Why didn’t you ask outright?
It wasn’t for a woman to do so.

Was it because you were too proud
To admit that for once
Your horizon had broadened
To include
Someone else…

And that someone else was me?

And now you’re back in town.

I watch you
Through the window of the cafe

As you sip your coffee,
Oblivious to the world,
At the same table

Where you

Could have
Might have
Should have

Asked me to come with you.

The waitress sees me, and waves.
And, just out of curiosity,
You turn your head.

You start as you recognise me.
You shift in your chair, making to stand up.

It’s too late. I’m getting married tomorrow.

 

 

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Tanja Cilia

Freelance Writer

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