Eight Cylinder Wings (Ethere)

You
bent down,
leaned into
the car and kissed
my trembling lips.
'Just in case you had doubts, '
you said; and I couldn't breathe.
I watched you walk back to your car,
a gray bird with eight cylinder wings;
and I revved up my engine to follow.

poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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In This Moment, Forever

Languished, we lay with one another
in night-sweet passion like lovers do-
nefarious night to never ebb.
Drinking delight in the heart of love,
as one, in acrostic, forever.
Mist moves magic, shrouding our secret;
and wisps of wind move over the plain.
Rejoicing in this sacred serai,
illuminated raptured rebec,
Euterpe falls to salacious stitch.
Vervains of white and deep indigo
are gleaming, unreal and phantasmal -
nocturnal nebula on the sea.
This is a moment of joy and bliss,
and sweet kisses that I can't resist.
Silence has a golden aria.
Someone scatters stars across the sky.
Even the moon moves over the hill.
Languidly laying like lovers do,
love lives in this moment, forever.

poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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I Dream Of Being With You

I dream of knowing your velvet kiss,
the soft warmth of your lips,
the delicious drink of carnal bliss
that pours from your fingertips.

I dream of a pirate ship in the harbor
with its prow and glistening stern.
I dream of moonlight in the arbor
with songs of quixotic nocturne.

I dream of pearl-drippings on the bed,
the fragrant breeze of night.
I dream of roses of cherry red
that rise in scarlet delight.

I dream of a pulsing palisade
with beads of tiny flowers.
I dream of meadows dressed in jade,
collapsing sighs and showers.

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poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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Forever My Love

The green earth waits beneath a whitened wing,
haunted by memories of budding Spring,
when love loosed its verdure and gathered ground
in groves of splendor by the river's sound.

Now slides the morning on wood and metal,
falling like rain in each snowdropp petal.
The bright mosaic of radiant hues
is a blinding light that each eye pursues.

The seasons change but the memory clings
and hovers around with its hopeful wings.
Search the memories and gather the green.
Lay them beneath whispers of velveteen.

Remembered, reborn, and riding the rail,
love is the wind that releases the sail.
Forever, my love, I remember well,
the glory of love before glory fell.

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poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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Dress Me Like Poetry

Dress me like poetry in silk stanza stockings,
in pearls of metered verse on a syllabic strand.
Brush rhythm through my hair and rhyme on my lashes,
and paint me in tones of syntax and sonnet sand.

Dangle diction diamonds to adorn my face,
like cascading charms of sweet metaphoric prose.
Give me blue ballad bonnet alliteration
and assonant slippers with repetitious bows.

With sestina skirt and connotation corset,
I am the allusion and the symbol of love.
I am the onomatopoeia twilight song,
the euphonious moonlight that shimmers above.

So dress me like poetry, in pleasant pantoum
or in the cacophony of a villanelle,
in the ode of hyperbole or anapest,
in romantic Terza Rima or Terzanelle.

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poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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Similis Smiles

Like the moon, he speaks - a silver-
tongued devil dressed in black,
his words slithering across my skin
like rain on the rhombus of a diamondback.

Similis smiles like a vacant house,
like the death of a dappled dove;
and like stains in a broken China cup,
he is at the bottom when it comes to love.

For his heart is like a mangled mass,
a mountain crumbled as grains of sand.
Like a tear to the eye, he clouds the sight,
like a veil of fog across the land.

The senses are stifled from his desert air,
like pressing fingers around my throat.
He slips like a stone, a rolling stone,
into the great ache of life's emote.

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poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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Waiting For You (Sestina)

The tangled wood reminds me of your hair -
dark like the night and falling in whispers.
Kneeling underneath the sheltering pines,
I sip silence and stroke the memories.
You have long been gone, and I miss your hands,
slipping through the long sleeves of languid love.

Time is a leaf on the branch of our love,
curled in the corners of your chestnut hair
and falling like sand through hourglass hands.
Wind strokes my back and quietly whispers.
Stars float down a dark sky of memories,
their bright pulse like beacons above the pines.

Thus hangs the moon, suspended among pines,
promising brighter days showered with love;
but for now, I live in the memories.
I braid a blue blossom into my hair,
its fragrance wafting like weary whispers,
spider-spun silk in the palm of my hands.

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poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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Naked Pearl Of Lust (Triple Acrostic)

My kisses miss your sweet kisses; and when I'm lonely, I
yearn for your open arms. Now, my life is an anathema,
hardly worth the mention nor open for debate. No great gem
ever glows without the light. When the moon shines over sea,
a particular thing happens, the moon makes magic while shining down.
Rivers run into the heart. Everything whispers of love; and a
tidal wave of desire rushes through the soul. A blushing cheek
is kissed by silken lips, open in amorous affection and love.
Sweet effluence of the night! Universe of stars! I am embraced
in the arms of eternity, clinging to the pleasures I keep,
never knowing if or when he will suddenly disappear with the
yellow lantern of the moon. My breasts mingle with the sea -
orphic nipples on azure ripples, echoes of ecstasy; and the nebular
universe may stop turning but the heart blossoms like the soil.
Ravenously hungry, it desires more - always deeper than the sea - so
hungry for an undying love, searching calmly and so certain of
a never-ending triumphant bliss. The heart is like a pearl -
naked in length and girth - enjoying the moist and wet milieu.
Discover this pearl of love. Make metaphors move magic within us,
salaciously sliding into my sex, erupting in scarlet lips of lust.

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poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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My Heart Was Filled With Your Words

The curtain rose on the stage, and I saw you standing there.
The lights above were shining down upon your ink black hair.
My heart proudly skipped a beat when you looked into my eyes,
and I felt myself tremble then for what I felt arise.

The women all about me were whispering sweet and low
of how much you looked like a prince within the stage-light glow.
I secretly smiled to myself, warmed by their devotion,
unseen in the shadowed curve that circled like the ocean.

I gazed upon you as the host introduced you by name.
I felt my temperature rise as though a heated flame.
Walking over to the mike, you quick-coughed to clear your throat.
All the room was silent then as you spoke the words you wrote.

paris elegy
by larry jaffe

her reflection
forever imprinted

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poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell
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