Tag: Poetry

Water Wall

Jayne6 Comments

He placed a hand, palm down

and divided the red sea

I walked across the damp sands

eyeing sky scrapers of water on either side of me

I thought the middle of the sea would smell salty

but it smelled of baby powder and Green Tea

singing melodies of childhood

of hide and seek

and eating with my fingers because we’re too young to know better

I look up to catch the sun glaring down upon such miracles

I was hoping to find a golden chariot sticking out just enough

for me to discover something amazing

secrets hidden beneath the sea

the walls splash and splatter

and a cool breeze flows through my hair

I run my fingers through the great wall of water

how could I be part of such a great act?

I’m much too small and distracted to erect a wall of water

but to have it done for me

well, that’s much too overwhelming

doesn’t make much sense at all

 

-Saschia Johnson

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Circles -A Collaboration

 

Symbols

JayneLeave a comment

 

She asks for symbols

while doodling stars and hearts

in blue ink

across the top of a blank page

Maybe I don’t get it, Professor

Maybe I never will

She’s on to circles and squares

then sees images of old Egyptian pillars

And creates her own hieroglyphs

with no meaning

(to her)

“To evoke the imagination.”

She voices before putting her head back down

Simi circles and unfinished squares

That are dotted like a morse code

But they have been placed

With no meaning

Dotted with intent

But no definition

Somehow she still feels the depth

Of each meaningless symbol 

 

-Saschia Johnson

 

 

 

Yesterday I blogged about Jan Van Eyck

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Circles -A Collaboration

JayneLeave a comment

The world in all its glory

still vacant

The abyss below

echoes back words I’d like to decipher

    [will it ever be enough]

Some days the echoes

are all that matter

and even though he’s my world

these echoes are sticky

like a magnetic night sky

without a cloud for miles

Where the comets and planets come alive

and beat

to some universal pulse

strangely connected to the abyss.

But then I’m hungry

and lonely

and I gotta take a piss

so I leave the stars and the comets

letting them die once again.

But when I return the clouds have doubled

tripled

fuck there’s nothing left

the clouds have swallowed my vision

whole

-Saschia Johnson

something about the breeze…
watchful of a comets descent,
inhaling through the eyes,
digesting in the mind
a peculiar empathy of knowing
crystalizes in the heart,
i too have long heard the
gravitous orchestra it follows
in spiraling cadence,
of starbright tears, given to the sky
jaw clenched with quiet defiance
gifting awe
to strangers eyes, a parade of lights
in a whisper
vanishes in majesty…
wondrous to fade so spectacular
something about the wind,
loud so loud,
familiar
crooked grin on a moon,
time traveler alas,
a statue standing in a remembered
sorrow, thoughts
familiar
clouds choke the same,
as decades ago,
just…one difference, in a gratitude
to follow a light parade,
to taste a wind too loud,
familiar gloom, welcomed
to have kept the eyes, heart and mind,
through the decades…unfrozen,
something about the breeze,
familiar to a comets descent.
-Lord Byronic featured art also by lordbyronic
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Caged from Words

JayneLeave a comment

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

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New England Cafes

Crumbs Dishes

JayneLeave a comment

I’m in search of symbols

I search the worst places first

starting with Social media

the dusty ones

Those few I should’ve deleted

a while back

I clean the house

Because they could be mixed in with the dishes

Or with the crumbs on the carpet

And when that’s through I sit and think

And think

If I were a metaphor where would I be?

There’s the trees

the oceans

The sky and wild creatures

Love, heartbreak, Death

Is it possible that the search

is the metaphor

The crumbs the dirty dishes

the urge to find a connection

-Saschia Johnson

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~*Energy Drinks*~