We all do this writing thing different
That doesn’t matter
It’s not about how or when you write
it’s about doing it
it’s about continuing to do it
even when doing it no longer makes sense
There’s a silent commitment
between you and the words
and an image of you writing
alone
And that’s it
-Saschia
He’s wild, and uncouth and
scares the others away with
his insane laughter and honest mouth
but the truth is
I want to hear everything
he has to say
-Saschia
Check out my last post at Jayne.Press
The bare trees will begin to bud again
the flowers will crack through the soil
and bloom and amaze us with their colors
We will thaw and glisten under the warm sun
and our thoughts will be on simple things
like picnics with fresh berries and huge sandwiches
or beach days scented of sea salt and sunblock
those days are coming where we
will come to life once again
-Saschia
There’s more poetry at Jayne.press or click here~~~> Makers Of Dreams ~*
how bad do you want it
does it drag you outta bed at one am
do you do it even when you know it’s not perfect
and if you don’t
do the demons of regret torture you until you do
would you sacrifice empty dreams to see a childhood one come true
The truth is I’d be ok drifting back into nothing
but this dream it’s got a hold of me
and it’s going to drag me outta bed at one am
and make a fool of me
it will prod me until words bleed from my fingers
because it won’t let me die living on empty dreams
-Saschia
You are worth more than a thousand words
you’re worth the search that never ends
As long as you are the light at the end of my tunnel
I’ll always have something to strive for
-Saschia Johnson
the pain is relieved
from my hips and my pelvis
between tiny contractions
is heavenly rest
pillows prop me and
I dose off thinking of what
it will all be like when she’s here
-Saschia Johnson
The words that drift out of me are sometimes a shocker. Who’s that man with the big moon eyes? Who’s that girl with the upside down curls? If there is a time we need to think it’s now, but thinking is entirely too much work so we busy ourselves with tasks. Redundant tasks that require little to think about. Tap a pen tap a tap pour the beer and give a smile because they love the smiles. Rest is something we need but too much is no good we need just the right amount. Google-me-drids is that a thing? Who gets just the right amount? I’m either tired from too much or from not nearly enough. Twinkle-me-timbers my toes are cold or I’d be napping right now.
I feel the madness trickling in
Under the door- through the door
Makes my legs electric and
My heart flighty
Madness waits for no door
To be opened
It stains eyeballs red
As reality quakes out of view
Let it trickle let it trickle
Because there’s no escaping it.
Stone steps in the dirt
A field of wildflowers
Dew drops
And a cottage filled with love
-Saschia
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…..
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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