I’m waiting for that time to come For the perfect moment For a time to breath, to think But the best time is now I should get more focused now Because later might not come So I need to mix my clay, gather my bricks, and start stacking bit by bit -Saschia
Category Archives: Poetry
Little purple person
Who are you when you’re not looking, when that sweat is dripping from your brow When your feet are up on the couch. Can you define yourself? Not your hobbies or your top responsibilities, but who you are, those spaces, between your out-right maddening choices? “I’m a little purple person,” it whispered in my ear. “IContinue reading “Little purple person”
Words
It’s not 12 yet I still have time to finish today’s checklist There’s a world at my fingertips If I could just grasp it Wrangle it in and spit it into words Zaza zoom… Bada bing… Hmm… I guess those aren’t the words I’m looking for -Sasch
Nutella Jar
I saw a woman Fish into her purse and pull out a spoon then the jar of Nutella Now, I love me some Nutella but I’m not sure I’d carry around an entire jar with a spoon -Saschia Johnson Propped upright
Propped upright
Upright because I can breath no other way Propped like a doll in a pillow shop placed snug between designer pillows Except I’m no designer item Just a prop A comfort a symbol of home I am home between the pillows not because of the pillows I’m home because the stuff inside me the stuffContinue reading “Propped upright”
song tune
The moon the sky Have I heard her song Is the tune my own The lyrics circle my car Echoes of ghosts ask if I’ve eaten They take my hand and offer me raw honey The bees vibrations buzz around me Do I have to ask if they’ll sting?
Damaged
Years pass by mouths clamped shut raw meat rotting beneath crisp white sheets A metallic bird squawks Cawing cawing at the window panes but no one let’s him in. -Saschia
They Collide
here we go again the fight a dream or two colliding my knees ache my legs are restless but these dreams they tug and they pull they tell me they’re waiting and let me tell ya they’re getting impatient and it’s making my pits sweat
Farm Land
A farm land churned and over cropped Fruits of labor plucked year to year I have no regrets I’ve fed and nurtured new life I’ve cradled vulnerable seedlings not yet ready for the rays of light that brighten and burn Tucked away silent inside warm dark loved A symbolic womb with a pulse pulse pulseContinue reading “Farm Land”
Tacos
I’ve stuffed myself full of tacos And queso And guacamole with chips Now I feel like a potato And my creativity got Stiffed But the tacos were so good And look I still wrote a poem -Saschia
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