Tash
@tashpoetry.bsky.social
Poet, writer, martial artist. The villain in my villanelle.
Pinned
Tash
@tashpoetry.bsky.social
· Dec 19
Roads & Hotels: Poetry by TashInTheClouds
Roads & Hotels: Poetry by TashInTheClouds - Kindle edition by TashInTheClouds, Natasha. Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like bookmarks, note taking and highlighting while reading Roads & Hotels: Poetry by TashInTheClouds.
www.amazon.com
My first published poetry collection:
'Roads & Hotels'
#poetry #TashPoetry
www.amazon.com/dp/B088F4HZZG/
'Roads & Hotels'
#poetry #TashPoetry
www.amazon.com/dp/B088F4HZZG/
There are songs,
and there are tragedies.
Choral memoried narrations,
chiral self-reflections,
distortions in brittle antimony.
Trailing lines of thought
in unresolved harmony.
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
and there are tragedies.
Choral memoried narrations,
chiral self-reflections,
distortions in brittle antimony.
Trailing lines of thought
in unresolved harmony.
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
November 24, 2025 at 5:03 AM
There are songs,
and there are tragedies.
Choral memoried narrations,
chiral self-reflections,
distortions in brittle antimony.
Trailing lines of thought
in unresolved harmony.
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
and there are tragedies.
Choral memoried narrations,
chiral self-reflections,
distortions in brittle antimony.
Trailing lines of thought
in unresolved harmony.
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
'My, My Friday'
Oh, this isn't a poem,
just a Friday evening's refrain
from yours truly to
the mainsprings of mediocrity,
winding my world down,
winding me up
until stuck,
9-to-5, like a Dolly,
without the D cups;
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
Oh, this isn't a poem,
just a Friday evening's refrain
from yours truly to
the mainsprings of mediocrity,
winding my world down,
winding me up
until stuck,
9-to-5, like a Dolly,
without the D cups;
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
November 21, 2025 at 11:41 AM
'My, My Friday'
Oh, this isn't a poem,
just a Friday evening's refrain
from yours truly to
the mainsprings of mediocrity,
winding my world down,
winding me up
until stuck,
9-to-5, like a Dolly,
without the D cups;
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
Oh, this isn't a poem,
just a Friday evening's refrain
from yours truly to
the mainsprings of mediocrity,
winding my world down,
winding me up
until stuck,
9-to-5, like a Dolly,
without the D cups;
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
'Washhouse Whore'
In the laundry for the quiet
and cleanlines,
the stains and daydreams
shifting themselves,
unlike the company
and the words,
always the nonsense,
sorrowful and plain,
pushed about,
1/2 #TashPoetry #poetry #writing
In the laundry for the quiet
and cleanlines,
the stains and daydreams
shifting themselves,
unlike the company
and the words,
always the nonsense,
sorrowful and plain,
pushed about,
1/2 #TashPoetry #poetry #writing
November 9, 2025 at 10:00 AM
'Washhouse Whore'
In the laundry for the quiet
and cleanlines,
the stains and daydreams
shifting themselves,
unlike the company
and the words,
always the nonsense,
sorrowful and plain,
pushed about,
1/2 #TashPoetry #poetry #writing
In the laundry for the quiet
and cleanlines,
the stains and daydreams
shifting themselves,
unlike the company
and the words,
always the nonsense,
sorrowful and plain,
pushed about,
1/2 #TashPoetry #poetry #writing
'I Saw It Too'
Knocked down, by words
of indecision,
like the opposite of a revolution.
A nasty judder, like a blow,
like a kick from a slug,
like teeth closing over a tongue,
probing for a taste
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
Knocked down, by words
of indecision,
like the opposite of a revolution.
A nasty judder, like a blow,
like a kick from a slug,
like teeth closing over a tongue,
probing for a taste
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
September 26, 2025 at 3:23 PM
'I Saw It Too'
Knocked down, by words
of indecision,
like the opposite of a revolution.
A nasty judder, like a blow,
like a kick from a slug,
like teeth closing over a tongue,
probing for a taste
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
Knocked down, by words
of indecision,
like the opposite of a revolution.
A nasty judder, like a blow,
like a kick from a slug,
like teeth closing over a tongue,
probing for a taste
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
Peak this, peak that. Peak horseshit.
September 26, 2025 at 8:45 AM
Peak this, peak that. Peak horseshit.
'Hahahaha"
Confession
in written whispers,
blood from a pen.
The taste of cranberry,
like subterfuge
upon stretched lips.
Trite words.
A scraped thought,
like a throat.
An unfeeling trope,
dearth and aimless
as a zombie.
#poetry #TashPoetry
Confession
in written whispers,
blood from a pen.
The taste of cranberry,
like subterfuge
upon stretched lips.
Trite words.
A scraped thought,
like a throat.
An unfeeling trope,
dearth and aimless
as a zombie.
#poetry #TashPoetry
September 24, 2025 at 3:48 PM
'Hahahaha"
Confession
in written whispers,
blood from a pen.
The taste of cranberry,
like subterfuge
upon stretched lips.
Trite words.
A scraped thought,
like a throat.
An unfeeling trope,
dearth and aimless
as a zombie.
#poetry #TashPoetry
Confession
in written whispers,
blood from a pen.
The taste of cranberry,
like subterfuge
upon stretched lips.
Trite words.
A scraped thought,
like a throat.
An unfeeling trope,
dearth and aimless
as a zombie.
#poetry #TashPoetry
'After-image'
The haze of persists, to remind
with a swell of colour,
the decisions of a secret life.
Observe the crumpled ashes
that had once shimmered
as a beloved
before shedding a soul's
worth of weight to die.
For all such moments,
one must eventually smile.
1/2 #poetry #writing #TashPoetry
The haze of persists, to remind
with a swell of colour,
the decisions of a secret life.
Observe the crumpled ashes
that had once shimmered
as a beloved
before shedding a soul's
worth of weight to die.
For all such moments,
one must eventually smile.
1/2 #poetry #writing #TashPoetry
September 8, 2025 at 9:12 PM
'After-image'
The haze of persists, to remind
with a swell of colour,
the decisions of a secret life.
Observe the crumpled ashes
that had once shimmered
as a beloved
before shedding a soul's
worth of weight to die.
For all such moments,
one must eventually smile.
1/2 #poetry #writing #TashPoetry
The haze of persists, to remind
with a swell of colour,
the decisions of a secret life.
Observe the crumpled ashes
that had once shimmered
as a beloved
before shedding a soul's
worth of weight to die.
For all such moments,
one must eventually smile.
1/2 #poetry #writing #TashPoetry
'Sensory Other'
Call me out for a Friday dance —
a tryst and trick, on the way out, fuck,
unbothered by the world
dragging slowly behind.
Take me, show me
a newborn sorrow,
a debutante's swan song,
a whirling semaphore
for a brain, too blown out
to encode
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Call me out for a Friday dance —
a tryst and trick, on the way out, fuck,
unbothered by the world
dragging slowly behind.
Take me, show me
a newborn sorrow,
a debutante's swan song,
a whirling semaphore
for a brain, too blown out
to encode
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
September 2, 2025 at 9:44 AM
'Sensory Other'
Call me out for a Friday dance —
a tryst and trick, on the way out, fuck,
unbothered by the world
dragging slowly behind.
Take me, show me
a newborn sorrow,
a debutante's swan song,
a whirling semaphore
for a brain, too blown out
to encode
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Call me out for a Friday dance —
a tryst and trick, on the way out, fuck,
unbothered by the world
dragging slowly behind.
Take me, show me
a newborn sorrow,
a debutante's swan song,
a whirling semaphore
for a brain, too blown out
to encode
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Stifle the cracks
with laughter and warmth.
Fill a husk into a being,
not unlike a house.
To smile, unlike a simile,
undone by neurosis.
#poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem
with laughter and warmth.
Fill a husk into a being,
not unlike a house.
To smile, unlike a simile,
undone by neurosis.
#poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem
August 31, 2025 at 10:03 AM
Stifle the cracks
with laughter and warmth.
Fill a husk into a being,
not unlike a house.
To smile, unlike a simile,
undone by neurosis.
#poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem
with laughter and warmth.
Fill a husk into a being,
not unlike a house.
To smile, unlike a simile,
undone by neurosis.
#poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem
A faltering mind, divining;
delving for the loved
and lost, a decay of thought
like a passing ghost,
seeking nowhere.
The body, tired but strong
from the fighting,
fucking,
though we hate that word,
strong,
like cleverness,
like easy.
Poetry, unforming the self
like leprosy.
#poetry #TashPoetry
delving for the loved
and lost, a decay of thought
like a passing ghost,
seeking nowhere.
The body, tired but strong
from the fighting,
fucking,
though we hate that word,
strong,
like cleverness,
like easy.
Poetry, unforming the self
like leprosy.
#poetry #TashPoetry
August 20, 2025 at 1:32 PM
A faltering mind, divining;
delving for the loved
and lost, a decay of thought
like a passing ghost,
seeking nowhere.
The body, tired but strong
from the fighting,
fucking,
though we hate that word,
strong,
like cleverness,
like easy.
Poetry, unforming the self
like leprosy.
#poetry #TashPoetry
delving for the loved
and lost, a decay of thought
like a passing ghost,
seeking nowhere.
The body, tired but strong
from the fighting,
fucking,
though we hate that word,
strong,
like cleverness,
like easy.
Poetry, unforming the self
like leprosy.
#poetry #TashPoetry
A sense and instinct for depth
& descent;
a lodestone for trouble.
To slip & stream,
hurtle towards the ache
like a plummeting myth:
Handmaiden of Persephone,
wing-shorn into
a quaking waste
into a land that shifts
like a fickle shadow;
like a true lover's whim
& indenture.
#poetry #TashPoetry
& descent;
a lodestone for trouble.
To slip & stream,
hurtle towards the ache
like a plummeting myth:
Handmaiden of Persephone,
wing-shorn into
a quaking waste
into a land that shifts
like a fickle shadow;
like a true lover's whim
& indenture.
#poetry #TashPoetry
August 8, 2025 at 11:42 AM
A sense and instinct for depth
& descent;
a lodestone for trouble.
To slip & stream,
hurtle towards the ache
like a plummeting myth:
Handmaiden of Persephone,
wing-shorn into
a quaking waste
into a land that shifts
like a fickle shadow;
like a true lover's whim
& indenture.
#poetry #TashPoetry
& descent;
a lodestone for trouble.
To slip & stream,
hurtle towards the ache
like a plummeting myth:
Handmaiden of Persephone,
wing-shorn into
a quaking waste
into a land that shifts
like a fickle shadow;
like a true lover's whim
& indenture.
#poetry #TashPoetry
Try posting poetry on social media, they said... Sure.
I forgot that I do not do well with the social part.
I forgot that I do not do well with the social part.
August 7, 2025 at 12:59 PM
Try posting poetry on social media, they said... Sure.
I forgot that I do not do well with the social part.
I forgot that I do not do well with the social part.
Busy-ness or business,
new trends, or perhaps
old business —
the re-glossed, chipped nails
of indoctrination,
scarified at the altar
of good housekeeping.
Servitude is a Sahara —
11 countries across
to vacuum,
a never-ending vacuum,
just to please you.
Goodness, no.
#poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
new trends, or perhaps
old business —
the re-glossed, chipped nails
of indoctrination,
scarified at the altar
of good housekeeping.
Servitude is a Sahara —
11 countries across
to vacuum,
a never-ending vacuum,
just to please you.
Goodness, no.
#poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
August 7, 2025 at 12:06 PM
Busy-ness or business,
new trends, or perhaps
old business —
the re-glossed, chipped nails
of indoctrination,
scarified at the altar
of good housekeeping.
Servitude is a Sahara —
11 countries across
to vacuum,
a never-ending vacuum,
just to please you.
Goodness, no.
#poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
new trends, or perhaps
old business —
the re-glossed, chipped nails
of indoctrination,
scarified at the altar
of good housekeeping.
Servitude is a Sahara —
11 countries across
to vacuum,
a never-ending vacuum,
just to please you.
Goodness, no.
#poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
'Potpourri'
Chasing conversation remnants
in emptying rooms,
filling with loneliness.
The party, devolving
into recalcitrance —
the music, for one, to sway to,
glasses, tipped and
two strangers to lean into;
hands, too tired for habits.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Chasing conversation remnants
in emptying rooms,
filling with loneliness.
The party, devolving
into recalcitrance —
the music, for one, to sway to,
glasses, tipped and
two strangers to lean into;
hands, too tired for habits.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
August 4, 2025 at 3:32 PM
'Potpourri'
Chasing conversation remnants
in emptying rooms,
filling with loneliness.
The party, devolving
into recalcitrance —
the music, for one, to sway to,
glasses, tipped and
two strangers to lean into;
hands, too tired for habits.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Chasing conversation remnants
in emptying rooms,
filling with loneliness.
The party, devolving
into recalcitrance —
the music, for one, to sway to,
glasses, tipped and
two strangers to lean into;
hands, too tired for habits.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Matia Mou'
I swallowed an unknown
offering in blindness,
acceptance, like justice
blindfolded
though sustainment
continues, regardless
with my eyes
turning askance,
like my internal
emptiness,
rolling.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
I swallowed an unknown
offering in blindness,
acceptance, like justice
blindfolded
though sustainment
continues, regardless
with my eyes
turning askance,
like my internal
emptiness,
rolling.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
August 1, 2025 at 5:41 PM
Matia Mou'
I swallowed an unknown
offering in blindness,
acceptance, like justice
blindfolded
though sustainment
continues, regardless
with my eyes
turning askance,
like my internal
emptiness,
rolling.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
I swallowed an unknown
offering in blindness,
acceptance, like justice
blindfolded
though sustainment
continues, regardless
with my eyes
turning askance,
like my internal
emptiness,
rolling.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
A conversation crosses
a latent thought, and
I return, harken a klaxon —
a Preacher
that recalls an existential fall
into loneliness, and the neon,
burrrowing lines from a song
to empty, or should that be fill,
to submerge,
or perhaps, to surface?
I am
always uncertain.
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
a latent thought, and
I return, harken a klaxon —
a Preacher
that recalls an existential fall
into loneliness, and the neon,
burrrowing lines from a song
to empty, or should that be fill,
to submerge,
or perhaps, to surface?
I am
always uncertain.
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
July 31, 2025 at 1:44 PM
A conversation crosses
a latent thought, and
I return, harken a klaxon —
a Preacher
that recalls an existential fall
into loneliness, and the neon,
burrrowing lines from a song
to empty, or should that be fill,
to submerge,
or perhaps, to surface?
I am
always uncertain.
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
a latent thought, and
I return, harken a klaxon —
a Preacher
that recalls an existential fall
into loneliness, and the neon,
burrrowing lines from a song
to empty, or should that be fill,
to submerge,
or perhaps, to surface?
I am
always uncertain.
1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry
'South Of Here'
A Southern weather promise,
and I am contented
by the untended spaces —
the beach, an emptied place
of peoples and partisan misbehaviours;
the coastal stones, cold but
encompassing,
graffitied and waiting
1/3 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
A Southern weather promise,
and I am contented
by the untended spaces —
the beach, an emptied place
of peoples and partisan misbehaviours;
the coastal stones, cold but
encompassing,
graffitied and waiting
1/3 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
July 25, 2025 at 1:03 PM
'South Of Here'
A Southern weather promise,
and I am contented
by the untended spaces —
the beach, an emptied place
of peoples and partisan misbehaviours;
the coastal stones, cold but
encompassing,
graffitied and waiting
1/3 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
A Southern weather promise,
and I am contented
by the untended spaces —
the beach, an emptied place
of peoples and partisan misbehaviours;
the coastal stones, cold but
encompassing,
graffitied and waiting
1/3 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
'I Allusion'
Time travelling, between two voids —
work, and some other thing I was made for.
Hole-hearted, hole-headed;
holes, so close to whole
but not as close as
whore, what
this isn't NZ poetry —
nothing to read here,
not this scrawl of a reclusive's excuse
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Time travelling, between two voids —
work, and some other thing I was made for.
Hole-hearted, hole-headed;
holes, so close to whole
but not as close as
whore, what
this isn't NZ poetry —
nothing to read here,
not this scrawl of a reclusive's excuse
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
July 24, 2025 at 12:35 PM
'I Allusion'
Time travelling, between two voids —
work, and some other thing I was made for.
Hole-hearted, hole-headed;
holes, so close to whole
but not as close as
whore, what
this isn't NZ poetry —
nothing to read here,
not this scrawl of a reclusive's excuse
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Time travelling, between two voids —
work, and some other thing I was made for.
Hole-hearted, hole-headed;
holes, so close to whole
but not as close as
whore, what
this isn't NZ poetry —
nothing to read here,
not this scrawl of a reclusive's excuse
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
'Somewhere In The World, A Goddess Faltered'
So how were you short-
changed, sugar?
To bear these misconducts of mediocrity
without the refrain of sanity;
intellect reserved for another day.
A siren call to banshee —
a segue to a different reality,
from lips for sin to mournful hate.
1/2 #poetry
So how were you short-
changed, sugar?
To bear these misconducts of mediocrity
without the refrain of sanity;
intellect reserved for another day.
A siren call to banshee —
a segue to a different reality,
from lips for sin to mournful hate.
1/2 #poetry
July 23, 2025 at 1:21 PM
'Somewhere In The World, A Goddess Faltered'
So how were you short-
changed, sugar?
To bear these misconducts of mediocrity
without the refrain of sanity;
intellect reserved for another day.
A siren call to banshee —
a segue to a different reality,
from lips for sin to mournful hate.
1/2 #poetry
So how were you short-
changed, sugar?
To bear these misconducts of mediocrity
without the refrain of sanity;
intellect reserved for another day.
A siren call to banshee —
a segue to a different reality,
from lips for sin to mournful hate.
1/2 #poetry
A dissonance with the Word,
juxtaposed with a tiredness;
a vagueness, with the news
swallowed into my newness,
my instructed auspiciousness:
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
juxtaposed with a tiredness;
a vagueness, with the news
swallowed into my newness,
my instructed auspiciousness:
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
July 21, 2025 at 11:18 AM
A dissonance with the Word,
juxtaposed with a tiredness;
a vagueness, with the news
swallowed into my newness,
my instructed auspiciousness:
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
juxtaposed with a tiredness;
a vagueness, with the news
swallowed into my newness,
my instructed auspiciousness:
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Gardens'
Where or when did I wake,
and whatever for,
in this wilderness—
the catchment of God
and Devil,
though mostly just the same
when rephrased by men.
Walk with the guardedness
of experience.
Run, as though chased
and chaste.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Where or when did I wake,
and whatever for,
in this wilderness—
the catchment of God
and Devil,
though mostly just the same
when rephrased by men.
Walk with the guardedness
of experience.
Run, as though chased
and chaste.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
July 9, 2025 at 1:31 PM
Gardens'
Where or when did I wake,
and whatever for,
in this wilderness—
the catchment of God
and Devil,
though mostly just the same
when rephrased by men.
Walk with the guardedness
of experience.
Run, as though chased
and chaste.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Where or when did I wake,
and whatever for,
in this wilderness—
the catchment of God
and Devil,
though mostly just the same
when rephrased by men.
Walk with the guardedness
of experience.
Run, as though chased
and chaste.
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Simple devotions in
elegant diminutives...
Her, passing the
fine china,
tea leaves settling
to within my reach,
cantilevered to the tips,
like a diver returning
to a familiar precipice
and the inward breath
before the linger,
& the emptying breath,
into the depths where
I never belonged.
#poetry
elegant diminutives...
Her, passing the
fine china,
tea leaves settling
to within my reach,
cantilevered to the tips,
like a diver returning
to a familiar precipice
and the inward breath
before the linger,
& the emptying breath,
into the depths where
I never belonged.
#poetry
July 3, 2025 at 12:08 PM
Simple devotions in
elegant diminutives...
Her, passing the
fine china,
tea leaves settling
to within my reach,
cantilevered to the tips,
like a diver returning
to a familiar precipice
and the inward breath
before the linger,
& the emptying breath,
into the depths where
I never belonged.
#poetry
elegant diminutives...
Her, passing the
fine china,
tea leaves settling
to within my reach,
cantilevered to the tips,
like a diver returning
to a familiar precipice
and the inward breath
before the linger,
& the emptying breath,
into the depths where
I never belonged.
#poetry
'Call'
One way or another,
providence will rattle and fall
like any other coin,
called
heads or tails, though
he always asks for heads,
as if it were a new joke
rather than the old trope
he reserves for his
whores.
#poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
One way or another,
providence will rattle and fall
like any other coin,
called
heads or tails, though
he always asks for heads,
as if it were a new joke
rather than the old trope
he reserves for his
whores.
#poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
July 1, 2025 at 2:01 PM
'Call'
One way or another,
providence will rattle and fall
like any other coin,
called
heads or tails, though
he always asks for heads,
as if it were a new joke
rather than the old trope
he reserves for his
whores.
#poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
One way or another,
providence will rattle and fall
like any other coin,
called
heads or tails, though
he always asks for heads,
as if it were a new joke
rather than the old trope
he reserves for his
whores.
#poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
Why seek Heaven,
when angels remain
unseen?
Why try to change
an eternity’s refrain?
Portals and doorways
with enticement
of abandonment for new lives —
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
when angels remain
unseen?
Why try to change
an eternity’s refrain?
Portals and doorways
with enticement
of abandonment for new lives —
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
June 27, 2025 at 9:55 PM
Why seek Heaven,
when angels remain
unseen?
Why try to change
an eternity’s refrain?
Portals and doorways
with enticement
of abandonment for new lives —
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry
when angels remain
unseen?
Why try to change
an eternity’s refrain?
Portals and doorways
with enticement
of abandonment for new lives —
1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry