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 ...
Colors And Colors
Joy! - to have him naked in the spine of my bed,
pressed between rumpled sheets of sexual splendor,
read his anatomy with desire, bursting red
with lipstick kisses that confide my surrender.
Desire! - to toss and turn, wanting him near at night,
when the intimacy of distance warms my breasts,
twin rosebuds in a field of dainty dreams delight
where sweet Bacchante cries for the wine she has pressed.