Category: Poetry

Water Wall

Jayne5 Comments

He placed a hand, palm down

and divided the red sea

I walked across the damp sands

eyeing sky scrapers of water on either side of me

I thought the middle of the sea would smell salty

but it smelled of baby powder and Green Tea

singing melodies of childhood

of hide and seek

and eating with my fingers because we’re too young to know better

I look up to catch the sun glaring down upon such miracles

I was hoping to find a golden chariot sticking out just enough

for me to discover something amazing

secrets hidden beneath the sea

the walls splash and splatter

and a cool breeze flows through my hair

I run my fingers through the great wall of water

how could I be part of such a great act?

I’m much too small and distracted to erect a wall of water

but to have it done for me

well, that’s much too overwhelming

doesn’t make much sense at all

 

-Saschia Johnson

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Circles -A Collaboration

 

Circles -A Collaboration

JayneLeave a comment

The world in all its glory

still vacant

The abyss below

echoes back words I’d like to decipher

    [will it ever be enough]

Some days the echoes

are all that matter

and even though he’s my world

these echoes are sticky

like a magnetic night sky

without a cloud for miles

Where the comets and planets come alive

and beat

to some universal pulse

strangely connected to the abyss.

But then I’m hungry

and lonely

and I gotta take a piss

so I leave the stars and the comets

letting them die once again.

But when I return the clouds have doubled

tripled

fuck there’s nothing left

the clouds have swallowed my vision

whole

-Saschia Johnson

something about the breeze…
watchful of a comets descent,
inhaling through the eyes,
digesting in the mind
a peculiar empathy of knowing
crystalizes in the heart,
i too have long heard the
gravitous orchestra it follows
in spiraling cadence,
of starbright tears, given to the sky
jaw clenched with quiet defiance
gifting awe
to strangers eyes, a parade of lights
in a whisper
vanishes in majesty…
wondrous to fade so spectacular
something about the wind,
loud so loud,
familiar
crooked grin on a moon,
time traveler alas,
a statue standing in a remembered
sorrow, thoughts
familiar
clouds choke the same,
as decades ago,
just…one difference, in a gratitude
to follow a light parade,
to taste a wind too loud,
familiar gloom, welcomed
to have kept the eyes, heart and mind,
through the decades…unfrozen,
something about the breeze,
familiar to a comets descent.
-Lord Byronic featured art also by lordbyronic
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Caged from Words

JayneLeave a comment

I pace back and forth

like a caged animal waiting

for a stray hand

and an unsuspecting little one

Maybe just one time they won’t pay attention

and I can slip them between the bars

Some eye me down

and to show them who’s boss

I lick my lips

and then theirs

and then my own once again

 

swallow your advice

and slide me something

I can sink my teeth into

-Saschia Johnson

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New England Cafes

Crumbs Dishes

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I’m in search of symbols

I search the worst places first

starting with Social media

the dusty ones

Those few I should’ve deleted

a while back

I clean the house

Because they could be mixed in with the dishes

Or with the crumbs on the carpet

And when that’s through I sit and think

And think

If I were a metaphor where would I be?

There’s the trees

the oceans

The sky and wild creatures

Love, heartbreak, Death

Is it possible that the search

is the metaphor

The crumbs the dirty dishes

the urge to find a connection

-Saschia Johnson

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~*Energy Drinks*~

Somebody’s Name

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Long square round faces

Big eyes squinting ones dark ones with mysterious secrets

Perky lips plump and pouty Big and juicy

A world full of descriptions

but what I really

want to know is their names

and where they’ve been

and what they named their favorite freckle

when they were ten

but most of all

how they’ve survived

on just descriptions for so long

 

-Saschia Johnson

 

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I Want It All

 

Will write for candy

JayneLeave a comment

To find something to say everyday

to find beauty in a fabric covored chair

or a one sided conversation on giving directions

held by strangers

My wedding ring has burned my ring finger

and left a line of blisters

but I keep wearing it because it’s pretty and pink

metaphorically that could mean something

My hair flat and static and my eyes uncrossed

on the up side

This poem has earned me candy

-Saschia Johnson

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Wrinkled