If I starved myself of food
I would never feel
e m p t y
because someone
with a taste for beauty
made you delicious

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 12 January, 2014


One’s eyes see in every unwritten language that which every written one could never describe.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 1 October, 2012


Opening my soul,
the petals of its
soft, pink, silken flesh
become a mirror,
beckoning all and any
to the gateway of my swollen, naked heart.

And oh,
how does the honeybee suckle,
I remember,
approaching with a mask of raw intention,
innocent, but for the ravaging purpose
it knows only, yet again, to – here – ensue

. . . and so it does.

My blushing fortress sways and tempts:
a feathered
nudity, as,
in you float,
oh honeybee,
in pregnant pause
to share my perfumed freedom
as I blossom
with your tongue inside my lap.

Crush me not, but leave me torn
– yet, just as gentle.

Your organic levitation swells my fancy.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 16 May, 2012


Uncensored beauty is the pornographic vision of naked sight.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 9 January, 2012


Removing the eyes of man, one finally sees a vision of beauty.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 11 December, 2011


Chipping away at rock until it develops beauty will take no time at all, if one will only start.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 28 December, 2011


Beauty, being everywhere, leaves one blind to detail.

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 2 December, 2011