Spring Painting
Stone steps in the dirt
A field of wildflowers
Dew drops
And a cottage filled with love
-Saschia
A Home Full of Hope
Hope floats around my house it fogs the windows and clogs the drains but it smells of lemons and roses. And so we just wipe our fogged windows clean and continue to clear our drains. Because a home without hope is no home at all. We give thanks for todays and pray for our tomorrows. Just one more day, one more word, one more prayer.
-Saschia Johnson
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My Wishes
The times I wish for are the times my family is at their best. That they are full of peace and love. That fear and doubt are far from their door. And that they are prepared for the worst times as well as the best.
goodnight
This is a poem about nothing
I’m just writing this to sleep better
and maybe wake up better
There’s a million things to write about
but I’m not choosing any one of them
because the only purpose for this poem
is a good nights sleep
-Saschia
It’s All History
The twigs snap and the leaves crackle beneath me
This is where I recharge and reboot
I don’t always wish to be there
but it’s where I end up
Beneath the breathing branches
and budding leaves
-Saschia Johnson
Don’t stop here keep reading… Returning
Moraldom
Moraldom
Wrap me in white and send me along,
away to a place where there’s no rules
Rock me steady on a hollow log
listen for my beats, while I drift along
Gift me your love while in white I dream
but what I want is to be alone, I suppose
watch as everything escapes from your scheme
but please oh please let my lover of prose
Sing until I’m a blooming rose.
-Saschia Johnson
Returning
Sometimes I write to escape myself
sometimes I write to find myself
other times I write just because I have to
no matter what
I’m always returning
-Saschia
Inspired by Freud’s Master Plot by Peter Brooks
More poetry? The Third Trimester
The Third Trimester
nestled in
snug as a pug
who’s unwilling to move
and uninterested in rewriting the day
Just fruit smoothies
with spinach will do
I don’t wish to handle much else
right now
-Saschia
puzzle me this…
puzzle
here are the parts
some broken
some whole and worthwhile
others timeless
but when hung together
it becomes a symphony
a novel
a coming to that
can be revealed in no other way
-Saschia
Another poem? Step
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