Tag: poems

Let us keep driving – from 10 & 2, an upcoming book of poems about drive.

Tara A. Lesko - Writer

“Let our scars fall in love.” – Galway Kinnell

Let the tire tracks we leave

in the fresh powder 

fall in love with the arms 

already asleep with The Walking Dead. 

Let the fuel lights of our minds 

love us enough to keep us 

going twenty more miles, 

on the nights we can’t stop 

for fear of missing the next brilliant idea. 

Let the snow-covered curbs we hit 

while making careless right turns 

forgive us and love us anyway

though we forget they are there 

to keep us inbounds. 

And let the windows we fail to defrost 

thoroughly in the morning have mercy upon us. 

Let their benevolence allow us 

just the right amount of clarity to see 

the brake lights ahead of us, 

the coffee shops to the right of us, 

and the phantoms behind us.

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.

The Others

Tara A. Lesko - Writer

Believing the voices of others

is like a fatal a accident on the side

of the interstate.

You promise yourself you won’t 

pause and look, but you do it anyway.

Feeling the stare of others on your skin

is an afternoon when you’re body is done with the ocean-

when you’re not sure whether you feel soft, salted,

and cleansed – or weighted, wrinkled, and burned.

Tasting the deception of others 

is like that one deceiving berry,

the one on the bottom that looks as brilliant as all the others,

but when you bite into it, the blandness fails

to satisfy your violent need for sweet half-truths.

touching the hand of another can be the last thing

you want to do if you don’t want to chance

remembering a name – and the only thing 

you want to do, if you want to forget your own for a while.

Life is a Journey

Tara A. Lesko - Writer

If that is the case, I need to stop

handing out free boarding passes

to the flights of my mind.

There’s no more room

in my Samsonite soul,

bursting at the seams

with ripped kimonos,

cheap espresso stained

handwritten pages with

the legibility of a tired child,

the scent of cigarettes

and hot hard liquor.

Maybe I should walk the miles

instead of dream them,

with only a backpack full

of empty pages, a grey hoodie,

and a bottle of blackberry Merlot

with only a thin layer of condensation

on its body.

Available at http://www.etsy.com/shop/TheForgottenWord

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.