Jayne.press

The Mason

The Mason

He picked up a red brick

Brushed it off

and placed it on the wet cement.

He had sweat on his brow that

Drip dripped.

His overalls and long sleeve plaid shirt

Were a good choice that frigid morning

But mid-day it was 80 degrees under the sun.

He still stacked because if he didn’t nobody else would.

He spread the cement with a trowel

and placed another brushed brick.

With every stacked brick he gave it a tap.

That set it in place just right.

His back had an ache and his shin had a splint

but every brick tapped was one brick closer

To being complete.

-Saschia Johnson

… But just can’t say it 😐 I haven’t been able to gather my thoughts properly. Or appropriately. So I thought I’d share a journal entry from back in October. After sharing with a few close friends who went through the same thing, I shared a little more publicaly.. And figured I would leave it here as my next entry untill I am able to gather my thoughts right for another new one.

My intentions when I first wrote this was to just help ME heal, and to acknowledge my feelings in a possible different way. I shared with a friend just the very beginging because she too had been through a miscarriage also. After her feedback and hearing that October was “National Infant and pregnancy loss awareness month” I thought my story/expierence may help another female in their healing process, and that even though you are a Christian we…

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Don’t forget to wash your hands

Do you fear your lack of self-control. Your eyes jump from crevice to crevice saliva slips from that numb part of your lips to your work boots covered in the gritty money you earned. She turns and has that virginal-motherhood smile and you feel that sweat collecting behind your neck making your head itch, but you don’t scratch it and you call her

~~a whore~~
~~a witch~~
~~a slut~~

NOTHING, because she’s given you these urges you can’t quite control. You try to look away but that portal she was gifted or cursed with [depending on the day], sings the same song your mother did to you as a child. It sweeps you numb and causes reckless thoughts sending you to hell then purgatory, but only just after you touch the outskirts of heaven in the bathroom stall.

Don’t forget to wash your hands.

6 reasons why you should write today.

Six reasons why you should stop doing what you’re doing and write right now. people-2587055_1280

You’ll have something to look back on. Not only to see your own growth but to have those memories you hold so dear.
To learn from your experiences. It’s much easier to learn from your experiences when they are written down. Sometimes our brain remembers things wrong. It likes to play tricks on us. Smh, the brain is such an unreliable thing.
It can be healing in so many ways. It could help you figure out what’s holding you back, or why you developed some quirky ritual or habit years ago. It can make ideas and concepts more clear and concrete. Writing can heal in so many ways.
You’ll have something to leave behind. Everyone has so many different experiences and for me it’s nice to read and observe how others deal with experiences similar to my own. It can help other humans feel less alone. It can be eye opening and relieving. It could talk someone off the ledge. Seriously.
You’ll have done something. Even if not one person reads your stuff you’ll have made a difference in yourself for yourself and that’s what’s most important. As they say you can’t truly help someone else until you help yourself.
It can be cathartic. (Thank you Nory for that one.) I was telling her I wanted to set my screen play on fire cuz I’m so over it. She said that would be cathartic and that I should do it. Then I had to google the word cathartic. lol Writing can give you a release you don’t get in other places. Once in a great while things just come together and realization happens. Which can help you progress mentally or spiritually.

Thanks for reading! Hopefully this post has inspired you to write!

Skirts

There is nothing here this is a blank sheet that needs my creativity, only my well has run dry or my muse has gone on vacation. It’s in you, your life is an inspiration but my life is dull dull dull and all I want is to write write write: no bars or small talk, only outskirts will be worn by me. -Saschia Johnson

Doors

Correction On Shrouded

Yesterday I posted a poem, but as an over thinker I already want to make one thing clear.

Here’s the poem.

“The air is thin here

among the musk and dirt

my body veiled in cloth.

I’d prefer not to be.

There’s a nakedness I crave

that isn’t available to all.

This nakedness, this madness is divinity

hoarded with chocolates and tea.

There’s incessant knocking knocking

pounding and glass shattering

I open my hands and teeter this way and that

until the urge is gone

leaving my nakedness unveiled

and the air normal”

The nakedness the character in the poem speaks of IS available to all but only few venture that path. I think I will rewrite it to clarify that little tidbit.

maybe

“The air is thin here

among the musk and dirt

my body veiled in cloth.

I’d prefer not to be.

There’s a nakedness I crave

it’s available to all

but only few venture it

This nakedness, this madness is divinity

hoarded with chocolates and tea.

There’s incessant knocking knocking

pounding and glass shattering

I open my hands and teeter this way and that

until the urge is gone

leaving my nakedness unveiled

and the air normal”

But as they say, a writers work is never truly finished.

Here’s another poem from last week that I enjoyed writing.

Shrouded

Shrouded

The air is thin here

among the musk and dirt

my body veiled in cloth.

I’d prefer not to be.

There’s a nakedness I crave

that isn’t available to all.

This nakedness, this madness is divinity

hoarded with chocolates and tea.

There’s incessant knocking knocking

pounding and glass shattering

I open my hands and teeter this way and that

until the urge is gone

leaving my nakedness unveiled

and the air normal

-Saschia Johnson

MacDonald Sisters

The Long Wandering Path to Desire by Frances Macdonald.

According to Claire E. Jones with InquiriesJournal.com, “Margaret and Frances Macdonald embodied this ‘new woman’ with their status and education as professional artists and the visual motifs that they accordingly employed. They managed to combine feminine and masculine characteristics into one figure in their works, effectively establishing an androgynous figure. In the process they managed to establish an equality, if not superiority, of women and men.

…

The director, Francis H. Newbery, was committed to an excellence in art that combined functionalism with beauty while encouraging individuality and experimentation among his students. Here the instructors trained the Macdonald girls as professional artists. This is also where they met their future husbands, Charles Rennie Mackintosh and James Herbert McNair. These four youths came to be known as the “Glasgow Four” during their time at the school.”

I think these ladies seem pretty awesome and I love the way their work seems to sway. AND they are the first female painters I’ve blogged about. Their styles are similar, but still unique to each of them. So inspiring! I can’t wait to learn about more artists.

Click here for last week’s artist from history

Site used to gather this information:

www.inquiriesjournal.com

All pictures including feature photo from:

www.greenmanpress.com Feature photo by Frances Macdonald I’m unsure of the title

Dear Writer,

Your words give me something to live for. I have plenty to live for, but your words get me out of bed when the world is weighing so heavy nothing else matters. I truly wish the best for you and when the best finds you (if it hasn’t yet) I hope you don’t lose yourself in it. And that we can continue to learn and grow together. 🙂

Sincerely,
Sasch

P.S.
I hope to memorize your stuff over time