My head
spins like a top
The rush
The drop
The world
let go of me
-Saschia
Tag: dreamer
Will Write For Tomorrow
Light in the distance
A globe or maybe an orb
It flits around the corners of my heart
Dashes against the edges of my mind
I look and touch and smell
What it may be like
I want things a way
Smooth oiled machines
But life isn’t so oiled
It’s jagged and rough
There are times when moments
Connect seamlessly and those I pocket
And dissect later
But mostly it takes work
and prayer
and sweat
-Saschia
Moments of Desire
Why do I have to want it so bad
it scares me to try
I wish I could calmly face
my desires no matter how large
They say shoot for the moon
but I tend to shoot for the sky
I’m definitely a toe dipper
-Saschia
Artists
The road winds in a manner
that seems as if I keep walking in circles
but there are very subtle differences
differences only a curious person would notice
like the flowers are a different shade of blue
or the bugs are crawling on their backs rather than their bellies
Makers of art wander on and off this road
collecting things
while others trudge trudge doing the same thing
over and over
Artists do at times get caught in the monotony of it all
because we are one of the others
however our path is different
it is of more depth
less conformity
(which might I add is much harder than it sounds)
Our satchels fill with old cocoons left behind by butterflies,
odd shaped rocks,
and twigs wrapped in twine
left as symbols of where we’ve been
or left to warn of places we dare not tread again
So it may seem as if we are constantly stuck
in the same ole rigamaroe but trust me
We are not.
-Saschia
(Yes, I wrote rigamaroe)
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
Symbols- revisited
She asks for symbols
while I doodle
stars and hearts in blue ink
across the top of a blank page
Maybe I don’t get it, Professor
Maybe I never will
I’m on to circles and squares
Images of old Egyptian
pillars appear
containing hieroglyphs
with no meaning
Evoke the imagination
She voices
before putting her head
back down
Semi circles and unfinished squares
dotted like a Morse code
have been placed
with no meaning
Dotted with intent
but no definition
What is this place where
I feel the depth
of each
meaningless symbol?
-Saschia
Cloudy
I’m lost in the clouds
reality swirls into a blur of colors while
Hope flits in and out like a restless cat
How do I touch down?
Toes wiggling with
Two feet on the ground
-Saschia
