Alone in the Spotless Sky


Blood shot eyes look up at a spotless sky

Crickets quiet themselves enough to listen

Open there ears to hear the low moan of her

The outcry of help,regret.

But nothing would help her

Nothing ever could

The light in her soul has burned

And no love can find her in this

Spotless world.

20 years of waiting for someone to rock her

Coddle.

And only the breeze

Can keep her warm.

 

Saw of my writer friends yesterday, they always get me inspired. I feel like I need to practice, I’m losing my touch.

Sarah.

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Complex and Content


Staring out the window

what

when

how

did one chapter flow into the next so beautifully

how chapters became strung together

like popcorn on string, where my life

was magnetized to another’s as if I was

the metal and I was just waiting by the phone

for him to stick to me.

I stare out the window

when did god ,fate ,the devil decide

that at this time I would find the treasure after years

of digging and coming up with nothing

except holes and scars.

the glistening gold against salt

gems jewels and you stare back

and I become so lucky

more then I even thought I was before

 

Just a little poem to start off a dreaded Monday, but hey already starting to plan next weekend and I already can’t wait :)

Sarah

One Day


we will be leaving

one day

to never look back at the streets we know so well

to the neon sign of the Wawa hanging in the air

one day

we will leave this town where it grew as we grew

and now it  seems too small

one day

we will say goodbye to familiar faces

kids of kids we played with in the yard

one day

we will drive up to a sign we had never seen

and smile because

one day

this will be our home.

Grind #7

I know its been a while but with now three jobs and a boyfriend and a family, I never get time for myself.

Doing Your Buisness


It’s something everyone has,

like a shit you just can’t get out without pushing hard.

sitting there around a porcieln   dome  your ass

staring down at the still neon blue water.

You wonder how many asses have imprinted that seat

marking its territory with its pimples and little hairs that fall out

when they pee.

You wonder what kind of diseases you would get if you sat down long enough

And waited for the parasites to feed on your inner membranes of your cheek.

But taking the risk is more comfortable

Because you feel like you’re home listening to the clock tick

Concentrating on the task at hand and relaxing reading the paper

Magazine, wishing you can move on

And continue with your life

In peace.

#1  I’m going to Alaska, you’ll see  pictures when I get back.

#2 Inspired by the Men in my Life.

#3 Grind #6

I’ll see you all in a week.

Sarah


I look back on the days

When I craved clouds

Like chocolates. I related to rain as it dripped

like blood on the soulless earth.

I never felt the sun hug my face

the grass tickle my feet. I heard fingernails tapping on hardwood waiting

for answers I can no longer give.

Where has the time gone,

when the people holding hands made me

vomit.

When sirens were harmonizing with my moans as I was pounded

into the sheets like meat.

Now I am sitting on clouds looking down at a skeleton

that wishes to be in a closet.

WordPress hasn’t been working for me for a couple days. So here’s my poem. I’ll have a poem for tomorrow too. Sorry!

Looking Back.

17 Years and Still Mourning


Remember the 6th of June

And all the things we put you through.

 17 years vanished from this earth we crawl

 like cockroaches awaiting this destiny we call purgatory

 but we are not scared.

 

Remember the 6th of June because on that day

God created an angel that sits in her rocking chair watching

as her family remembers the empty seat.

17 years and never replaced by a warm body

of someone that couldn’t compare.

 

Remember the 6th of June

and  the smell of red roses, pale skin,

oil paints. Remember the smell of shore washing over the faces

of her grandchildren like waves. Moisture from her memories seeping

into our mourning minds.

We await one day to see her

 to open our hearts and hold her

Just like we had 17 years ago.

 

Grind #3

Today is my Grandma’s Birthday. She died 17 years ago. It feels like a lifetime, but I know she’s always around.

Happy Birthday Grandma. I love you and miss you very much.

 

Sarah.

Not Knowing.


I feel your soggy eyelashes pressing

Against my face and I  stand there cold

like that January night.

You are crying because you are not sure

where to go without the fire of my hands, and I too

am not sure.

 

You look at me like I know the answer

that I am a calculator and I can spit out answers

I cannot.

I am a book that is unfinished

a poem without an ending

and I cannot answer my own questions

let alone yours.

 

 

 

I wish people weren’t so dependent on me. I’m just me.

 

Grind #2 : I guess this will be every other night.