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Poems by tasha


"work of art"
with artists passion, artists pride
i shaped your fine and featured face
with eyes of deep and woody brown
and mouth so soft yet full of life
my fingers one by one did move
across the flesh across the face
and there they shaped a subtle crease,
a bright new blush, a clean cut scar
and there they recreated dreams
of faces with a perfect grace
cheeks of soft and tender touch
and nose to contour of thine face
hair that falls like golden paint
in flowing drips across thy brow
in subtle gold and sunset hue
the day doth seem to end there now
my fingers led a life their own
with tender touch and shaping mind
to hollow shadows, smooth thine skin
create a youthful face defined
the skin washed in a golden hue
so lightly tanned and golden brushed
and appled cheeks with brightened glow
the peachy tone a perfect blush
then with slow and tender kiss
i breathed your life, through lips to heart
my love of my creation deep
and beautiful, my work of art.



"in love"

oh written of before, but not so deep
no words with this sweet love compete
for none so rich and warm and true
portray my new found love for you
and what of thy fragile looks
that words from on my lips have took
so know i not such sweetly praise
for one with such a beauteous face

oh that i had worked the piece
upon which mine true eyes do feast
and that mine hands had traveled long
on that which my desire lays on
and that mine lips had spoke the name
in love, sweet one, no not in vain
and that my tongue was not so tied
and sweet spoke words not so denied

and that my heart could then express
such words of love and tenderness
but oh, thy presence stole the breath
with that these words had life, not death
and so, sweet one, for now i stay
and loving words so dormant lay
no words with this sweet love compete
for words i have, to secret keep

and though my love is all for thine
in love this secret must be mine



Will the night be proven sweet?
Nay, says the whisper wind,
Tis too tumultuous, too deep stirred,
For love to come within.
The moon cries out in mourning wail,
But see my calming light!
I see, replies the whisper wind,
But wake she will tonight.
For love doth breathe within her soul,
And with each passing breath
This newfound heart doth swell and throb
To bring about sleep's death.
The moon lets out a heaving sob,
Through night what will she do?
Says wind, Her mind be full of light
In dreams of love that's true.
So quietly the pale, gold moon
Resigns himself to this,
So night will not be proven sweet,
Then what becomes your wish?
The whisper wind sighs answer,
For now her heart doth yearn.
So we must sit within the dark,
Till sweet night doth return.
N.B


such oceans seem to swell and churn
within and through thine complex heart
and where once i felt anger burn
there now lay sadness to depart
sweet one, why this changing so?
can it be your heart still bleeds
from ancient wounds left long ago
that leave their unfulfilled needs
can i lend the soothing touch
to heal the hurt, to heal the pain
and can i love you near too much
that i may make you whole again
left alone you sealed the scars
but with me once more learn to love




When stars break from their silence
The crispness of a still night broken
A heart fall, shatters, breaks, unspoken
Pain stays in her eyes
When the moon, so round and smiling
Tries to wake but his eyes remain closed
Then strikes a cold, unmoving pose
Pain stays in her eyes
When the sun rises from nightly dark
Begins to cast its golden light
But all life stays as cold as night
Pain stays in her eyes
When love adds laughter to her face
The dark just slightly fades
The tears wait to come back again
For the pain lives in her heart.




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Biographical sketch: Hi, my name's natasha and I'm a 16 year old female from Australia. I love painting, sketching, dancing and singing, and writing poetry. I've been published in an anthology of poetry and I hope you like my work.

tasha recommends:

The works of Shakespeare
Reason: does it really need describing? Shakespeare is the master of poetry. he is brilliant!

Recommendations for writers:

seriously, I don't think that you can help others to write poetry. for me, the writing of a poem is a very personal thing. I sit in front of the paper or computer or whatever, and just let the words flow. I think poetry is a gift that is inside everyone, but you just have to be able to tap into that ability. and let the inspiration come from the deepest part of you. That's all you can do!


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