A life is best lived when it’s full of snuggles When it’s wrapped with hugs on bad days and smothered with kisses on other days Being loved makes life worth living But loving someone else a gift that keeps on giving -Saschia
Category Archives: Poetry
Teetering Through Time
Sticky damp sheets Wet streets And a soggy mind Thoughts Slowly round the bend I Slowly slip away Is this all part of the dance Or is the end coming near “Not til I’m dead!” The sun will rise. It will. And I’ll keep returning I’ll keep returning -Saschia
Filter Down
Under the covers with my baby on one side and my husband on the other I think of my day and how I’m satisfied with most of it Got a lot done, had a nap, and still had time to feed the kiddos Even still, I decide to wait till my eyes are heavy toContinue reading “Filter Down”
Snapshot
The vines were growing up out of the water And the trees hung freely Just a snap shot handed to me upside down That’s all we need for a great story -Saschia
You Truly Are
I want us to share spaces full of secrets and dreams I want to share my entire life with you Not just tidbits My weird thoughts my art New songs I find new places to explore just everything I even save things I know will make you smile And cook the things I know willContinue reading “You Truly Are”
Background
I don’t really have anything left to say I could write some happy bullshit I could write the emo shit I love But I don’t have it in me Momming is all I have to do right now Everything else has sunk back into the background
Family Fun
Summer is here and nothing is prepared No fitting swim suits No floaties No watermelon shaped towels But we do have marshmallows to roast And a backyard to roast in And board games and a family to play them with -Saschia
The Penny
A penny in a crack On the sidewalk A dollar bill blows Tilting side to side the way a butterfly does but less graceful The Receipts rested on a pile of trash in the bin Collected by a man dressed in blue The penny is still Wedged between two squares of cement -saschia
Writers Workshop
Why am I here The brick walls swallow my voice as they reach toward the heavens Why am I here? I ask myself one more time. To learn to be around writers like me. Well, not like me but also writing. But we write alone So alone that we pay money to be around peopleContinue reading “Writers Workshop”
Deep down %my sleeve and down my back is where the heart of this poem lies. I think I can reach it if I do yoga, then maybe I’ll clean the house and if that doesn’t do it surely I must need a nap. On second thought maybe I’ll start with tha nap.
Jayne.press 