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Published December 12, 2018
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Three Poems by Tiana Ranta
(Edmonton, Alberta, Canada)

crush
mestizo
thoughts

crush

by Tiana Ranta

you are the poetry I cannot write
the words that my lips refuse
you are the air my lungs cling to
the breath they hug

you are the wanting, the waiting,
the teasing that begs my flesh
that makes my fingers ache to touch you

you are the dreaming, the sleeping
and the nights I spend awake

you are the voice I play on repeat
every morning on the bus
you are the cassette tape, the television
on rewind, stop, play

you consume me
you fill me, my emptiness, my grief
you are everything I hate
and everything I love

you are everything
and nothing

you are the poetry I cannot write

I just cannot seem
to find the words



mestizo

by Tiana Ranta

they call me mestizo
my name means mixed
I think they should've named me

Lost

I don’t look white
like the snow my
father grew up
playing in
watching it fall
from the sky
into his palm

but I don’t look dark
like the soil of the ground
that my mother helped cultivate
it grew and fed
her family
fruits ripe and sweet
their nectar dripping down her chin

I don’t look white
and I don’t look dark

they call me
mestizo



thoughts

by Tiana Ranta

thoughts of you
wrinkling my sheets
soft hands tracing
the space between my
closed eyelids
whispering into tonight's silence

reading you poems
written in foreign tongues
we don't really understand them
but we share a smile anyways
who really understands love?
it is not a language
you can easily translate

it is so easy
to hear love in the poets words
soft syllables
the curve of your smile
quick pauses
as you glance up from old pages

I'd like to lay
on nights like these
never leaving the
peace that is this moment

the moon dripping
gentle light down walls
painting shadows upon your spine

these thoughts
refuse me sleep
but I am so willing to let them hold me
in this insomniac prison


Biography
I am Tiana Ranta, a young poet who lives in Edmonton. I have been writing
poetry for as long as I can remember. To me it is as simple as breathing.
I try to find poetry in the ordinary, in everything I see and do. I find poetry
in the music I play and the art I draw. In the trees and the hills and the world
around us. Poetry is a personal thing, a special gift. I hope you enjoy mine.