Linda Marie Van Tassell
Linda Marie Van Tassell Poems
The morning is moist with ocean spray.
The islands, they twist around the bay;
and across them all, my eyes have scanned -
the rocky cliffs and the buttes of sand.
I almost think it an Irish isle.
Such beauty to make the heart beguile.
Sunrise stain on a listless ocean
serves to add to the magic potion.
A boat is docked alongside the pier.
A woman and man are standing near.
He is setting sail to ports unseen
upon the gilded Emerald Queen.
Standing on tip-toes to give a kiss,
she cries while pretending unfelt bliss.
Others have perished ...
Island Of Ubiquity
She speaks with the blue voice of an ocean
invoking the swell of blessings unbound,
sanctified with a poise of devotion
in realms of silence that struggle for sound.
Her gown is interlaced with ash and mist
of burgeoning years and stories untold
haunted by the billows' sinuous twist
that drips with darkness when glittered with gold.