Author Feature - March 2021
Tara Aryan lives on the South coast in the UK with her husband and two young sons.
Tara is an emerging poet, who writes emotive and rhyming poetry which she has been writing since she was small. For many years she kept her work hidden.
She also writes adult fictional novels and published a children’s illustrated book last year.
She currently works in the Sports Travel industry, however since becoming furloughed during the beginning of the pandemic, Tara decided to use this time as an opportunity to chase her dreams to become a writer.
Tara began posting a poem a day on Instagram with only a small following and since then some of her poems have been published in magazines, anthologies as well as her poetry being featured & read around the world. In February this year, one of her poetry pieces was selected and featured at a musician’s concert in New York.
Tara Aryan’s first poetry debut collection: “Poetry For You, Truths For Me,” is out now on Amazon.
THE LADY AND THE TIGER
Hormonal and under siege,
A strength and power out of my league,
As the battle commences on the war of survival,
A black and orange feline beauty, now my rival.
A testament to strength, igniting power,
I hesitate, step back and duly cower.
She takes the plunge, no fatal errors,
Fulfilling my deepest fears and night terrors.
Opposing threats, her fur stands electrified,
Confident and aggressive, the cat amongst her pride.
I’ve met my match, with her claws and stripes,
That resembles my body, that jut out and strike.
A ball of ferocity, her coat camouflages,
Into the flames that flicker, threatening to sabotage,
Her predatory prowl as she lures in the darkness,
Protective and fearless, almost heartless.
She lunges and swipes with her talons, baring her paws,
The scars and bruises are prominent telling of the wars,
She has had to endure to survive whilst being hunted,
“I am not a threat!” I shout instantly confronted.
“We are the same you and I, we’re forever judged,”
Our marks and patterns blurred and smudged.
Cornered and trembling, I let out a howl,
As she bares her teeth, purrs and fiercely growls.
Curling herself around me, her tail resembling a snake,
Knowing my plight in that moment and what is at stake.
“I am not here to harm you or take away your fur,”
I hear my echoes hurtle around the cave, hauntingly whisper to her,
With ears pricking up, twitching whiskers and the licking of lips,
Eyes boring into mine, my body she strips.
All I am is nothing but prey in the vision of a tiger,
As she feasts on me, my soul now empty inside her.
HELD CAPTIVE BY MY WORDS
What is a sentence, a verse, or an essay?
Held prisoner inside of my head, keeping the words at bay,
A prison sentence in itself will I ever become free?
The words will they be bailed, released from inside of me?
Will there be recognition or a person that just waits in the wings and lurks,
The way my mind filters to rhyme like clockwork,
Or will I be continually unknown and un-reviewed?
My work read out, spit out and chewed?
I am trapped in a web war that has become unstuck,
Will my pieces shine like a star ready to be struck?
Will I keep falling held captive by words,
My inner critic closing me in, only wanting their voice to be heard,
As darkness encroaches, headaches come pounding,
The will of my words infinitely resounding,
A force to be reckoned with, vocabulary on fire,
Hopes and dreams ignited, so much to aspire,
Dig me out of this wreckage, the rubble of this labour of love cell,
That shows no remorse in this wicked hell,
Held captive by my words, lips stitched with glue,
Like a prisoner of words which can’t get through,
Maybe if I hadn’t listened I’d have learnt a lesson,
And I wouldn’t be held captive by my words in this confession.
LIVING IN YOUR SHADOW
I live behind the darkness,
Residing in the shadows of your kids,
Like violet skies,
I blend in as I lie,
Like the moon that sits on the lake,
Baring everything that I have at stake,
As I live residing in your shadow,
I have nothing to show,
But a crescent heart,
Interlaced into darts,
That slither and slice,
Not once but twice,
In the bars of a silhouette, confined,
As I represent your other half,
Wrapped within your knitted scarf,
That’s woven in knots,
Bled into clots,
Of tears in the rain,
That fuels my pain,
As I live in the shadows that loom,
Peaking as they zip and zoom,
Across those blank canvas’s we know as walls,
Tears cascading like lone waterfalls,
Because living in your shadow,
Is like being hit by an impending arrow