Tag: Poetry

A Bag Full of Freedom

JayneLeave a comment

I wake up chug a cup of water in my reusable Starbuck’s cup

gotta make sure I have enough milk made for  the baby

sniff my pits and decide they smell fresh enough to skip a shower

I put on white leggings and look at my butt in the mirror only to notice

my panties show right through

So I pick a long short from my floral lined basket of folded shirts

I folded them when I was in the mood

I make myself sausage eggs and two pieces of french toast

this time for myself

not for the milk maker

I yell and scream about women’s rights then walk away

to fill another bottle of water

I pump for 20 minutes

put ointment on to prevent getting thrush

or from getting some infection I’d get from open wounds

and then gather Plath, Bukowski, Poe, Rimbaud, and [S.K.] Nicholas

into my bag

I grab my computer pretend to be happy

grab some pens and my keys and head out the door

I could take the Subie but I choose to take the Matrix

which is older and and smellier

so my husband who had the baby had a car seat

and I drive and I think about where I want to eat

and if I even want to eat again

 

-Saschia

 

Little purple person

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Under God’s Gaze

Jayne1 Comment

my boobs ache and my nipples crack

millimeter by millimeter

I grit as they tread my parted crevices

and I allow it

bloody bleeding

I choose everyday to keep going

“it’s all temporary” they keep telling me

and as I wander off to dream my breasts fill

they weigh me down

down down down the spiral

I am a woman who is tied to her children

I am a woman who has bled on white carpets

on the white sheets and into the hands of strangers

But I tell myself this will be over

this will end

I treasure the moments like they tell me

As my tummy sags while I squat squat squat to a popular rhythm

I can only hope it lifts just one more inch

missed meals a drooping breast

my body aches it aches from sacrifice

for him for her for the good God almighty

my dreams wait and become impatient

they gnaw and cause un-lady-like outbursts

my faith in God dwindles

and it all makes less sense the more I give

and rest and give

the more I come alive

The church steps in but it’s no use

it’s too late I’ve nothing left to give

I have no care left

call me what you like

keep me in your prayers

but these bones have grown too tired of trying to get

you to understand what it’s like when you’re not around

Tugged

JayneLeave a comment

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

Art

Jayne1 Comment

A place where rules can be bent and logic defied

where man is winged and birds speak

this is where I write from

and also from my heart

even when it seems meaningless

it is something

it is a piece of me

and I will continue to leave bread crumbs for myself

because for some reason I think I’ll need them

-Saschia

 

….More at Jayne.Press Writing Like A Writer