Still Written

There are many times I give away my time to write. I give it and give it and give till I’m writing 10 words and starving for solitude. I know I should hang on tighter to my time to write. I should be more demanding but it’s such a slippery thing. It shifts and molds in countless ways. I grip, then I give my last five minutes and I’m left grasping at nothing. I slip away because writing isn’t something that can come or go. I, the writer am coming and going. Writing does not cry without me, I cry without it. I ache and spiral and shift when I’ve strayed too far, but it is always as I left it, blank, unfinished, or completed. But when I return I won’t be exactly the same as I was when I left.

-Saschia On Writing

Reading Energy

I read the same line 6 times

Then when I tried to leave I backed into my mother’s car

That’s when I decided it was best to stay inside

With the book I’m too tired to read

I stare at the letters and they don’t stare back

The words they have sounds and proper places

But they sit there with no meaning

Not these words here that you’re reading

because they are coming out not going in

It’s the going in part that’s not working.

I’ll try again tomorrow morning.

-Saschia

Please Exist

There is a reason why you’re here

It’s to read this poem and to realize this poem’s existence would cease without you

It would be silent

A dead silence with the night air stuck in a place that never really existed

It would lack the chaos of us

Trees would fall into oblivion

I would fall into oblivion.

Without you,

there’d be no us

there’d be no poetry

You are the poetry

-Saschia

Tugged

The future is bound to my neck

I hold her close and nurture her till the time comes to let her go

The past is bound to my ankle

I don’t live there

I only use what I learned

My core was steady

but childbirth has weakened it

My bones light

buried beneath these layers of skin

My blood trickled on memories

On humans

On dreams

On goes the thumping of my heart

It thumps it thumps it thumps

And like a warrior of no tribe

I wear my stripes

my chin held high

Because the future needs

to be nurtured by a warrior.

-Saschia

Cookies with a Side of Fitness

Sitting here outside the gym eating Milanos. I might finish the bag before I finish this piece. It’s the double dark chocolate flavor. There’s a lesson to be learned here. But I’m sure I already know it. The class starts in ten. There’s two cookies left and I should stop eating them but I probably won’t. I should take this all more seriously I mean my health is a priority as a mother. Ok I’ll leave the last two for tomorrow.

Signed,

A hungry breastfeeding mother

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

Coming Back To Life

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 ~*