There’s a breeze and a howl
there’s a dance I’ve missed
one I’ve longed for
and one I remember
stomach pains and a kick in the rib
my mind squanders and so I do too
I’m here then I’m not
I’m connected then drifting
oh the fires of life burn
so strongly in my soul
-Saschia
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.
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
More Poetry? Click Click Click
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
Sometimes I write to escape myself
sometimes I write to find myself
other times I write just because I have to
no matter what
I’m always returning
-Saschia
Inspired by Freud’s Master Plot by Peter Brooks
More poetry? The Third Trimester
here are the parts
some broken
some whole and worthwhile
others timeless
but when hung together
it becomes a symphony
a novel
a coming to that
can be revealed in no other way
-Saschia
Another poem? Step
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
There’s construction on the bridge
makes me not want to cross it
even though the construction
is being done underneath
it just slows things down
There must be another way
-Saschia
The distractions are monstrous
the drive to replace the mask of positivity
and the plague of territorial jealousy
like a jack in the box I never wound
but I love when it rains
and I love when you show your true face
the rugged one
the one you’ve hidden in your arm pit
insisting it be swiped with deodorant
the stink you wish only to release on your death bed
that is the one I wish to see
that is where love lies
-Saschia Johnson
I pace back and forth
like a caged animal
waiting
for a stray hand
and an unsuspecting little one
Maybe just one time they won’t pay attention
and I can slip them between the bars
Some eye me down
and to show them who’s boss
I lick my lips
and then theirs
and then my own once again
swallow your advice
and slide me something
I can sink my teeth into
-Saschia Johnson
