Tara Teeling

Tara Teeling Poems

41. Sissy 6/28/2006
42. Spring Fever 4/21/2009
43. Fat Girl 5/28/2009
44. Temporal 1/21/2009
45. Grey Smoke Of November 11/13/2008
46. An Open Closet 5/26/2008
47. La Luna 6/25/2007
48. Kairos On The Deathbed 9/10/2007
49. A Noble Concession 2/13/2007
50. This Lady Of Hand 11/27/2006
51. Muse On A Tightrope 5/1/2006
52. Head Trip 5/1/2006
53. The Fox In The Beaches 3/30/2006
54. Divinity In The Bakery 3/30/2006
55. Eve On A Tabletop 4/5/2006
56. Ambulance 1/15/2007
57. The Truth About Sympathy 4/15/2007
58. A Tulpa Likes The Light 11/22/2007
59. Hoodoo In The Garden 8/8/2007
60. Where I'M From 1/9/2008
61. Answers To His Question 1/6/2008
62. The Recipe For Resurrection 1/2/2007
63. Your Persuasion 6/4/2006
64. Blue Nightgown 6/3/2006
65. Earthlings In July 7/21/2006
66. A Cold Blow 8/13/2007
67. Early March 3/9/2008
68. Blue Funk 6/26/2006
69. First Kiss 6/2/2006
70. 1988 2/24/2008
71. Frostfire 6/2/2006
72. His Side Of The Bed 6/2/2006

Comments about Tara Teeling

  • Max Reif (9/18/2007 12:17:00 PM)

    I look forward to the opportunity to see through Tara's eyes each time she confronts yet another aspect of experience. I've read four of her poems so far, and she's not disappointed me as far as having something to say and saying it in a really original way. You won't find any prefabricated phrases or perceptions in Tata's poems. I'm looking forward to continuing my journey through here ouvre.

    ps: Sometimes I think Tara might make sure EVERYTHING in a poem is as whe truly wishes it. I encounter an occasional, apparent contradiction and am uncertain whether it's a deliberate ambiguity or an oversight. Sometimes too, I find a comma that doesn't seem necessary..but my dominant impression of Tara is, wow, I want to read more!

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Best Poem of Tara Teeling

His Side Of The Bed

How strange it is to wake in a foreign land,
To try to spy the sameness here, as it was there.
Suddenly, nothing feels close, nothing in my acquaintance.
I look around and see things that should be familiar to me.

On that side of the bed, is a pillow of cream and eyelet.
Propped up long ago, it sits, without interference,
Plumped and perfect, wrinkle free under the lofty covers.
Recall him lying there, whilst I lay on my side.

Remember now the gentle breathing as the sun woke,
I think of how the rhythm would change during the night.
I used to sleep ...

Read the full of His Side Of The Bed

The Fox In The Beaches

Sitting in the chair
with its threadbare bruises,
I am home. The earlier-crimson cushions
look bled dry, hosting the smells
of long-dead decades. With the sudden
gust of breath from a spirited descent,
there is a hint of the crying war bride, or
the scent of the brazen flapper
who teases and tortures

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