Tajma Hall Poems

this deadly force
produce winds
the discontent
cord a constant
...

fresh rain
love to reflect about
you for one
are better than the moon
...

me thinks
is well my occupation
on to the kitchen
the coffee brew
...

we've done
by the fire light
not just when
I handled you a rose
...

she trail in grace
a host among the thorn
a question on face
we battle- we yet horn
...

we drawn on a smile
a lake in drift with bliss
the preceding stormy
mountain road- steams
...

I love to be loved
I sit nervous
left with crackling thumbs
my fingers work
...

this poem
or rather a song
from the heart
does not my body bleed
...

I cry with the trees
their breeze adopted me
sadly we both have leaves
in a garden flow
...

stone and plate full
kept in laughter
Why the moon?
I rise from the night
...