✨A poem✨ Two kissing fish flowing through the celestial stream a golden glow just so you know, we’ll always be here with you. -Saschia Jayne Johnson
Category Archives: Poetry
Living is an Art
There’s an art to this to be alive to kiss the stars with my feet planted side by side. Don’t ask what I sacrificed I’d not suggest it. But there’s an art to this thing called living. -Saschia Jayne Johnson If you enjoyed this poem, you’ll love my ebook! Writer’s Quest: A Triptych
The Ticking
The clock on the wall and its incessant ticking Dust drifting from the ceiling It isn’t always so loud some days the fan spins and the breeze blows into the blue curtains It’s not always so loud but it is always ticking -Saschia Jayne Johnson
Leapers
✨A poem ✨ A million cliffs and leaps into the monster’s mouth sandwiches under the sun Some people don’t make it back for sandwiches but we’ll still be there I don’t know if we’re supposed to be at the edge of a cliff making leaps but that’s where we meet by the sea. -Saschia JayneContinue reading “Leapers”
Wood Floors
✨A poem ✨ The wooden floor collects the dust of those before me in the cracks where the past lives thrive and a broom can’t reach -Saschia Jayne Johnson
Kiss from Another Dimension
✨A poem✨ The “universe” a word that perks the ears of those who believe and those who don’t. From the tiniest cell to the thoughts in my mind of you What does the word do to you? -Saschia Jayne Johnson
God
A poem Hands held in the darkness Held in the light Words whispered inside our heads bounce off the sun and into the heart of God -Saschia Jayne Johnson
Heard
A poem hints on the bathroom walls in the creak of an old door step through the threshold not the walk of shame but not far from it Lift your chin find the words and scribble them down before life echoes your words to the world before you even get a say in the matter.Continue reading “Heard”
A Peek Inside
A Poem Peel it all away and you’ll find spiders dangling from portfolios filled with life’s great wisdom Some pages, never read some, ink stained with coffee rings and folded edges But deep inside this mind it’s just me and my old fisherman waiting out the storm. -Saschia Jayne Johnson
I Can’t Hear You
A poem I opened the window and it all went out. It –the remanence of us The poetry, the novel, the memories. out with a whoosh. I stopped listening. Drowned myself between the legs of a feral woman What am I? Am I a woman left to contemplate life and how I make anything ofContinue reading “I Can’t Hear You”
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