Other, Poetry by Sarah

Cerulean

Blue is…

Whispers before dawn.

A morning iris,
farewelling night.

Sea-glass dreams
leaving a silent harbour.

Memory’s tide.

Far-away songs beating
against winter windows;
stopped by frosted panes.

Unmoored thoughts,
smoking trails
through my mind.

Of bruised fruit.

Of distance.

Of waiting.

Words unspoken
on ink-stained fingers.

Left in unfinished letters.

Storm’s skyline holding breath.

Horizon drift.

Mourning doves’ coo
on moth-wing’s quiet.

Bringing twilight
against the polished steel

of my last goodbye…

By Sarah © 2025

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt: cerulean (73 words)

13 Days of Samhain, Challenges by Sarah, Other, Poetry by Sarah, Sammi Scribbles

Be-Witched

How to be a witch:
– Stir moonlight into tea.
– Keep secrets in jars and herbs by the window.
– Learn the language of cats.
– Collect whispers from old trees.
– Never fear the dark (it’s where your power grows).
– Write wishes on bay leaves.
– Grind the night to powder.
– Let your blood remember flames.
– Light no fire you can’t control.
– Draw your circle, toss the salt and watch the smoke.
– Bind your fear in thread.
– Know every shadow by name.
– Let the wind braid your hair.
– Walk barefoot through your thoughts.
– Laugh with the ghosts and scream with storms.
– And always love fiercely…

(then disappear once you’re done)

By Sarah ©2025

Sammi Scribbles: 13 Days of Samhain, Vol. 6 – Day 11

13 Days of Samhain, Challenges by Sarah, Other, Poetry by Sarah, Sammi Scribbles

Things that stir at night (a list poem)

A clock sighing, It’s witching hour.
Curtains breathing through closed windows.
A piano being played by invisible hands.
Teacups trembling on a kitchen shelf.
Rusted keys jangling in unopened locks.
Portrait eyes gleaming with muted light.
Candles flickering without a flame.
A chill curling around the spine.
Calling out half-formed words from trembling lips and…
a ghostly whisper answering back.

By Sarah ©2025

Sammi Scribbles: 13 Days of Samhain, Vol. 6 – Day 3

Other, Poetry by Sarah

Befall

I try to be
infallible.

But somehow…

my footfalls
are rockfalls

my shortfall
is downfalls

my windfall’s
a pratfall

my rainfall’s
a waterfall

my landfall
is fallacious

…and in the end
I wind up

crestfallen.

By Sarah ©2024

W3 Prompt #124:
Wea’ve Written Weekly