Moraldom

Saschia 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

 

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passionate seekers

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)

 

the unwritten character

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 stuff that fills me to the brim
it’s all I need
whether in a shop

in the arms of a loved one

or left to collect dust
doesn’t matter
I am home