boxes, bins, and labels where to put it where to put it space saver clutter buster ugh, I broke a nail garbage bags empty boxes bend bend bend batteries screw driver or is it an Philips head whatever, as long as it fits The baby’s coming deep breath baby’s coming -Saschia Jayne.Press Nap TimeContinue reading “Nesting”
Tag Archives: Poetry
He’s A Writer
We have a writer in our midst He’s wild, and uncouth and scares the others away with his insane laughter and honest mouth but the truth is I want to hear everything he has to say -Saschia Your story needs to be heard Check out my last post at Jayne.Press
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 saltContinue reading “Coming Back To Life”
My Light
You are worth more than a thousand words you’re worth the search that never ends As long as you are the light at the end of my tunnel I’ll always have something to strive for -Saschia Johnson on my back
on my back
the pain is relieved from my hips and my pelvis between tiny contractions is heavenly rest pillows prop me and I dose off thinking of what it will all be like when she’s here -Saschia Johnson Unfocused
Unfocused
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 soulContinue reading “Unfocused”
Silly Billy
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 requireContinue reading “Silly Billy”
A Home Full of Hope
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…..
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 escapesContinue reading “Moraldom”
Returning
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
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