A cling-film wet kiss –
Weaponised lips, our shelter:
Lung to lung, our air
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 22 April, 2026
Poetic Style: Haiku
Challenge: ‘The Invisible Glue’
Topic: Something that holds things together
Guidelines: CUse the physical properties of the material to describe an emotional bond
I stand at my loaded easel, your canvas primed. Somewhere between, our white, breathless stories call for colour. I am the brush, but we are both afraid to remember.
An old memory, new.
Pain, the colour of closure;
this palette, courage.
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 19 August, 2026
Poetic Style: Haibun
Challenge: ‘Threshold of Choice’
Topic: The internal friction between fear and desire when standing at a major crossroads
Guidelines: Capture a raw, personal moment of human tension
Your apple sauce tongue
licks at my appendix eyes;
sweet, this bitter end
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 15 August, 2026
Distance is a morbid dance
of lungs that fill with fresh donations –
in, and in, but never out,
for space decrees it needs collation
Eyes that filter through the void
(collecting dust that never settles)
zero in but never out –
through leaking tears they wrestle
Unscarved bodies without spare arms
forget, forget, and start to numb –
feelings leaving, shedding, cleaved
as meat from bones, like beat to drum
Silence loud as piercing shadows,
ears as strung as tightrope toes –
not a sound escapes, nor enters,
but deep inside a scream that grows
Fonder does the heart cry bolder,
bleeding rust from valve to wall –
scarlet red to wash each chamber,
fuelling love to reinstall
Soon, a chapter newly bidden,
alphabeting strength from flaw –
words appear to mark beginnings;
in the darkness, light explores
Fingers reach to sink in touch,
and emptied arms, for sought embrace –
closer, closer, bodies lock
and lungs exhale at desperate pace
Separate, once, but not again –
the cost of loss, a needless price,
for what had led to time apart
is vowed to never happen twice
pisceanesque 