Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

Statues


It’s a sad fact – there seems no rights left.
Evil lies; march against stability.
Orange flames burn, torching lives.
As the hood is pulled back on ourselves,
We can be statues no more.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Sunday Whirl, Wordle 313



Wordle and image credit Brenda Warren

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Keyhole

I fell for his grin;
It was a touch naive.
At the time I believed
it was a fata organa.

I was malleable.
He saw his opportunity.
Imbibing me with lust,
like a local dog.

The trammels of hindsight,
A keyhole.

By Sarah ©2017

* fata organa – noun. a flash of real emotion glimpsed in someone sitting across the room, idly locked in the middle of some group conversation, their eyes glinting with vulnerability or quiet anticipation or cosmic boredom

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #169
Words used: hindsight, trammel, keyhole, malleable, opportunity, imbibe, fell, grin, local, naive, touch, fate organa

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

The Girl Who Was Made Of Glass

Recitations of love fell on deaf ears,
She couldn’t risk the words shattering her perfect world.
She had constructed for herself, a fragile universe,
Where everything was made of glass.

She liked the way the light shimmered,
Reflected and bounced off the surface.
Here, she could control the pace; the energy.
Keeping everything safe, including her heart.

Until one day, drawn in by the glittering landscape,
A tiny bird flew into a window, breaking its wing.
She carefully nursed it until finally,
It could repay her kindness with its song.

The girl realised how lonely she had been
and decided to leave her glass kingdom.
As she opened the door to the world beyond
She broke into a million pieces.

Finally free from her glass coffin.

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, It’s All In The Title – August 20, 2017; Daily Post Daily Prompt, recite 

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Life On Corners

Image credit Bikurgurl 

The square was full
Of people that day.
Air pulsed with music
Of the band as they played.

It was a string quartet,
minus a bow.
Instead in its place, 
a young voice flowed.

They felt the music,
Tapping their feet.
Keeping the rhythm,
And feeling the beat.

As people walked past,
They showed their pleasure.
Dropping loose change,
To form the band’s treasure.

Without our buskers,
Our street performers,
What life would there be
Upon each corner?


By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Bikurgurl, 100 Word Wednesday, Week 32

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Second Chance

I couldn’t feign love any longer.
Your malformed heart
Had started to infect mine.

Nothing remained
Except the labyrinthine void
Between us.

It was time I left before
The dead-reckoning of our course 
Smashed us both upon the rocks.

I had been a girl with grit back then
– to get out when I did.
Even if my gait had been slow;
Unnatural; a clumsy waltz. 

As I relearned the steps,
I looked around with caution.
Until where once I was torn,
I had been stitched up whole again.

I press my hand to your chest
And feel your heart beating.
I promise you it forever
Be embedded in mine.

By Sarah ©2017

*Labyrinthine – adjective. complicated, torturous, resembling a labyrinth

^ Dead-reckoning – noun. In navigation, dead reckoning is the process of calculating one’s current position by using a previously determined position, or fix, and advancing that position based upon known or estimated speeds over elapsed time and course.

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday’s Mix – 12 August 2017, flashback ; Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #168
Words used: feign, gait, dead-reckoning, torn, press, left, labyrinthine, look, embed(ded), malformed, gritty (grit), (un)natural

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

The Flatmate

She was a girl with many layers.
Accustomed to finery.
Reactive when things didn’t go her way.
(She always blamed her hormones).

Any hidden gains; a figment of your imagination.
For connecting with her true self,
Always ended in a gnossienne.
Don’t mistake her imitation for flattery.

She prefers to indulge her naughty side,
And leave you feeling impuissant.
It was a relief when she finally moved out.
Even if she did take half my stuff…

By Sarah ©2017

* gnossienne (noun.) – a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside.
^ puissant (adjective.) – powerful, mighty, potent. Antonym – impussiant (unable to take effective action; powerless)

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #167
Words used: layers, finery, reactive, gnossienne, figment, hormones, hidden, gain, imitation, naughty, feeling, (im)puissant

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

A Little Diner Affair

Dinah worked whatever paid rent, 
careers were reserved for the ‘burbs
She didn’t always like the jobs,
Especially ones working kerbs.

She hoped one day she’d make it,
She believed it in her mind.
But no matter how hard she tried,
People didn’t accept her kind.

Like stubbing a toe when already broke,
Life kept kicking her hard.
Her spirit stayed strong, never wavering,
Biding time to play her card.

For all those years, she squirrelled away,
A little here and there.
It wasn’t much, but Dinah bought
A little diner affair.

And when those folks who’d snubbed her,
Wanted coffee at her door,
She turned them away and Dinah said,
“Not bad huh? For a whore!”

For Dinah’s diner catered only,
for a very special few,
who battle life doing what they must,
just to make it through.

She took whatever they could pay,
And sometimes that was nought.
It mattered not, for she knew so well,
The struggles that they fought.

It wasn’t about the money.
It wasn’t about the glory.
She just believed everyone deserved,
A chance to change their story.

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday – August 4th 2017

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Skin Deep

Lying was her new truth.
And she was drowning in it.

The weight of it all.
Made it difficult to breathe sometimes.

She felt her loyalty was just a tattoo
Skin deep, like a quote about love.

But she was helpless to change things.
She was stuck in this generation.

By Sarah ©2017


Image credit ©Phoebe Rudomino 

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, July 30 – surfacing

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Deep In The Willowwacks

Deep in the willowwacks*,
the hooded people encircle
eccentric stones.

Entangled in the foolish.
Fulfilling figments of need and
jumping like myrmidons^.

The blade glints
as it slices the flesh
of the chocolate haired girl.

And in the morning
only whispers remain.

By Sarah ©2017


* Willowwacks – A wooded or uninhabited area
^ Myrmidon – a person who executes without question or scruple a master’s commands. 

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #166
Words used: willowwacks, foolish, circle, hooded, figments, eccentric, need, entangled, myrmidon, chocolate, glint, jump

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Whispering Wind 

I’m not a lady who thinks
all that glitters is gold
So, I don’t believe
everything that I am told.

For I learnt long ago
Words can have two meanings,
And you best be sure of
the way that they’re leaning.

We all seek heaven
For the here and the now
But sometimes we miss
The way,  and the how.

When I look to the left
And my spirit is leaving,
I can change my path
Despite my heart grieving.

For though I wish to
shine only white light,
I know of my dreams.
I know of what might.

There are those who watch,
And those who do,
and the smoke screen is all to 
distinguish between the two.

None of us are innocent.
None of us are pure.
We each play our part,
of that you can be sure.

And as my transgressions float
Across the whispering wind,
They remind me of all
The ways I have sinned.

I’m not the same person
I was ten years ago,
yet my deeds still follow me
wherever I may go.

When the piper comes for me
with shadows, taller than my soul,
I promise I will tell my secrets,
Yes; I will tell them all.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Prompt #10, response to Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven”

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

Beautiful Lies

How many days had I been here?
Sitting at this table,
Watching the flowers wilt and die.
As he cooks me up his special brew.

Spices; herbs; stirred with a clear elixir.
My dear, this will fix your headache.
My love, your pain will dissipate.
My darling, you’re too excitable.

Let me ease your womanly discomforts.
But they were all beautiful lies.
A recipe for keeping me here.
Captive.

Addicted.
Dying.
Dead now.
Like the flowers.

I’m cast aside for his next target
He tells more beautiful lies,
To anyone who will listen.
It is all too easy.

by Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, July 16, 2017 – Fine Dining Kitchen Tricks

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

Soaring High


Image credit Nicholas Picard via Unsplash

Soaring high
Toward the sky
Dare she make the trick?

A twist, some turns
As rubber burns
Yep, that move was sick!

Some people say
She should give it away
But that seems pretty thick.

Just coz she’s a girl
In a bloke’s world
Shit like that don’t stick.

She’ll show them all
Keep standing tall
This BMXing chick.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Bikurgurl, 100 Word Wednesday, Week 27, Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: moxie

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Calm Before The Storm


Image credit By Sarah ©

It’s getting eerie quiet
The clouds are turning grey
Thunder screams across the sky
The birds have flown away

Dancing on the mountains
Shadows mark them as their own
The barren eucalyptus branches
Start to creak and groan

The wind picks up its tailcoats
And howls around the place
Its blustering rage assaults me
My heart begins to race

The air smells thick of ozone
Electric shivers on my skin
Lightning strike is eminent
Any moment will begin

The calm before the storm
Tells me “Hey, it’s time to go!”
But something keeps me planted
I want to see the show

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Prompt #8 – Calm Before The Storm

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

In Between


Image credit – Natalia Fadejeva

She was of this world, yet not.
Lying somewhere in the in-between.

The call of the birds in the sky,
the rustle of crimson leaves,
and sensual smell of the soil,

Not enough to draw her back to earth.

Silken water, caressing milky skin,
the perfume of floating petals,
with promise of peace in the darkness,

Not enough to take her under.

Family murmur their  words
to coax her back to consciousness.

But she is trapped in her box.

She’s not the first person to be buried alive in her body.
She won’t be the last.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Photo Challenge #171, Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: bury, soil

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Stop A While


Image credit Eden Hills

My wings stretched out
I soar the open skies
The wind beneath my feathers
And carrying my cries

I squawk to my friend
Signalling stop for a while
I land upon a fence line
And listen with a smile

I hear the breeze rustling
The long grass at my side
The crickets they are chirruping
I hear them far and wide

The metal on the fence post
Makes a lightly scratching sound
Faintly echoes the howl
Of some far off mournful hound

Beside me runs a river
Though slow, the water flows
There’s the sensual slosh of liquid
As over the rocks it goes

Out of the corner of my eye
I see a snake slither and hiss
Time to go, lest he makes me his meal
I take off; blow a farewell kiss

Beep beep beep beep
I awake in confusion
It’s just my alarm clock
Shattering the illusion

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday’s Mix – 24 June 2017 and Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: illusion 


Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

The Muse


One bite of your neck, was more than I deserved; my muse.

You were so open, with words so smooth; my muse.

You eased the tension from my body, like it were a playhouse; my muse.

Even Neptune himself, could not have been treated any more a king; my muse.

Your semaphorism* a constant tease, a hook, a drug; my muse.

A paradoxical stalemate of wanting, but never having you; my muse.

But in reality, you are a thief; my muse.

I have been stolen, and am lost in you.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #159
Words: 

1. Bite
2. Smooth
3. Open
4. Deserve
5. Paradox
6. Semaphorism (n.)) a conversational hint that you have something personal to say on the subject but don’t go any further—an emphatic nod, a half-told anecdote, an enigmatic ‘I know the feeling’—which you place into conversations like those little flags that warn diggers of something buried underground: maybe a cable that secretly powers your house, maybe a fiberoptic link to some foreign country.)
7. Tension
8. Playhouse
9. Neptune
10. Stalemate
11. Muse
12. Thieves
Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

Free Verse, Photos by Sarah, Poetry by Sarah

Reveal 

Stretched out cotton balls

shroud the valleys in a thick blanket of white

mountain tops peek through, standing tall

imaginary fingers drag their way along the clouds creating lines and layers

slowly plucking away the wisps

until each strand has gone

to reveal the city below.

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: imaginary, foggy, pluck,

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Feral Fox

Cracking open a red wine
We’ve had cellared for a while.
Remembering our trip to D’areys,
Made me stop and a smile.

We tasted and we swished
The red liquid round and round.
Until we had decided,
The best wines to be found

Many purchases were made that day.
They’ve lasted quite some years.
There’s nothing better in winter,
Than wine (it sure beats beers!)

So as I pour my portion,
And swill it in my glass.
I think 8.4 standard drinks,
Is actually a farce.

The way I pour my red wine,
Is more generous than some.
I will probably be a ‘feral fox’
By the time this bottle’s done.

By Sarah ©2017


Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: portion

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

The Sacrifice 

the redhead was struck

blackened and withered

she falls away from my hand

no matter

her job is done

I watch intently

satisfied 

as the flicker becomes a flame

the radiant glow of her sacrifice.


By Sarah ©2017


Image courtesy of Paul at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Author’s Note: Redheads is an iconic Australian brand of matches originally manufactured in Richmond, Victoria by Bryant and May but now manufactured in Sweden by Swedish Match. It is the top-selling brand in the country.

Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt, Word: radiate

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

I am not nothing

I am not nothing.
I know you see me,
Even though you stare blankly
through the places I be.

I am not nothing.
I see the flicker in your eye,
A glimpse, a recognition
– your sister, a tie.

I am not nothing.
I’m not an aberration.
Not an evil monster,
You invented that creation.

I am not nothing.
All the wrongs against you,
are deeds to be halved,
your own version of true.

I am not nothing.
You need to share blame.
We both made mistakes,
played a terrible game.

I am not nothing.
Not invisible, not worthless,
And who the fuck made you,
so pious and righteous?

I am not nothing.
It cuts to the core,
It still hurts like hell
it’s me alone, you ignore.

I am not nothing.
There’s no end in sight,
I’ve tried for so long now
to make things right.

I am not nothing.
I want to move on,
To harbour this grudge
Eight years is too long.

I am not nothing.
It’s time to say ‘bye,
Because though you’re my brother
you don’t even try.

I am not nothing.
What you don’t see
Is that to someone who matters,
Their everything is me.

By Sarah ©2017


Image by Karen Shaw at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 Author note: This poem is based on my estranged brother. From time to time we have to deal with one another at family events etc and he pretends I don’t exist. This poem attempts to deal with some of the feelings that arise when being treated like this by someone you used to be close to. Obviously there are two sides to the story. This is mine.