Tag: goddesses

Brigid

Tara A. Lesko - Writer

I guess it’s never too late to get all Celtic on ya. 😉 I got some new collage supplies today and was reading about some goddesses from Irish mythology for my book, and well, here you go. 🤗❤️☘️🇮🇪🧚🏻‍♀️✏️📝✍🏻

Brigid,

she knows the heat in your face
didn’t come from pulling The Lovers
out of a tarot deck,

she knows the blue streaks in the fire
you study is an illusion, tempting you
to wave your hand through the flickering daggers,

proving to everyone but yourself
of your resiliency.

She knows you can grow anything you want
without killing it.
She drives barren hands
to burrow deep into the boggy soil,
to hold bulbs like a child you’ll never know.

She knows when the wells have run dry,
and the battles are about to begin,
yet she satiates, inspires, ignites fuses
you never knew you had. #art #poetryandart #poetrylovers #brigid

Happy National Woman’s Day

Tara A. Lesko - Writer

“Girls are not machines

that you put kindness coins into

And sex falls out” — Sylvia Plath

We’re more like the crane games

on a Jersey Shore boardwalk 

Hands maneuver our hands 

towards visible prizes

and treasures hidden in plastic shells. 

If what we have for grabs is too heavy

the plushness slips through fingers, 

weakened and rigged by the deceit of others. 

Still, these hands keep rolling quarters of promises 

into our waiting gaps, 

the lights and sounds fill the quiet, dark 

corners where we like to hide, waiting to see 

how hard this one and that one will try 

to catch our IPod hearts with irascible playlists – 

to win our unicorns stuffed with everything  

nobody else wants to know.

Muses 10 through 18

Tara A. Lesko - Writer

Muse 10 allows 

for that amazing voice 

in the shower. 

11 helps that same voice 

bounce beautifully 

off gravestones. 

Muse 12 dries your eyes 

after a too-big glob of wasabi 

or a too-hot shot of saki. 

13 is the impossibly long wait 

for coffee in the morning 

that makes you miss the multicar 

pile-up on the interstate. 

She’s the extra dead rose 

hidden in his “forgive me” dozen.

14 gives you the years 

you get with your dog or grandparents.

15 hits you with thirteen’s thorns 

for wasting that time. 

16 builds up your walls 

and shapes your wrecking balls 

that crumble them. 

17 helps break the news gently 

when all you want is to be alone. 

18 pummels you with sixteen’s wrecking ball

when you think you need permission.