Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Teach Your Children

Feed them, nourish them.
Put clothes on their back.
Show them they’re more important
Than alcohol or crack.
Teach your children.

Read them a story
when it’s bedtime.
Protect them from seeing
this world of crime.
Teach your children.

Clean the scrape on their knee.
Hug them when they’re sad.
Show them there’s tenderness,
Not just violence, to be had.
Teach your children.

Pay them attention,
not left to a device.
They’re only young once.
You don’t get to live twice.
Teach your children.

Tell them they matter.
Follow dreams and hope.
They can break the cycle,
of welfare and dope.
Teach your children.

Don’t foist your responsiblities
Upon those nearby.
Take ownership of your progeny
From caterpillar to butterfly.
Teach your children.

Protect their innoncence.
With precious lives in your hand.
They are your legacy,
Shape where they land.
Teach your children…but most importantly, love them too.

By Sarah ©2019

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Challenge – Teach Your Children

#NaPoWriMo, Challenges by Sarah, Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

The Sunflower

Image credit Pobble 365

Save me, I’m lost.
Looking for sunshine
but counting up the cost.
Wasting so much time.

I’ve learned to love abuse.
My mistakes become regrets.
I’m not being obtuse,
just accustomed to losing bets.

I’ve been waiting for you,
as months and years go by.
Trying to start anew,
but still left questioning why.

Don’t let go.
I’ve wanted this far too long.
Starting now to grow,
I’ve learnt from what went wrong.

Stand tall. Reach for the sky.
I take back my power.
No more tears left to cry.
I am the sunflower.

By Sarah ©2019

#NaPoWriMo – Day 5, 2019; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Challenge #47: “Show Me What I’m Looking For” by Carolina Liar

Other, Poetry by Sarah

Innuendo

Hiding behind God we praise beastily.
Upon others’ spirits we graze beastily.

“Be anything you want”, the craze decree.
Don’t take offence at this malaise imagery.

Allusive. Oblique. Innuendo, holidays free.
Surrender your ego, go as your days be.

Through the sorrow, through the haze see.
All that is splendour, upon you gaze me.

Let me tell you, exception weighs heavy.
So let whatever will be, yesterday’s be.

By Sarah ©2019

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Challenge #46: Innuendo by Queen and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, 23 March 2019

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah

Scar Tissue

With birds I’ll share this lonely view.
From my perch above, I look upon you.

My heart aches, way up here in the air,
As you’re carried away by your own affair.

A presence unnoticed in your busy life,
It’s hard to believe you were once my wife.

Surface wounds may heal but underneath,
Forms scar tissue that time can’t beat.

Your focus is bound to earthly things,
But I have evolved and grown my wings.

The birds have shown me how to fly.
My eyes turn skyward, and I say goodbye.

As Autumn’s sweet leaves begin to fall,
I’ll make it to the moon, if I have to crawl.

By Sarah ©2019

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Challenge #45: “Scar Tissue” by Red Hot Chilli Peppers

Other, Poetry by Sarah

Space Oddity Clarity Pyramid

Earth
Planet
Ground control.
This is Major Tom.
There’s nothing I can do.
In a most peculiar way,
“We are sitting in a tin can”.

By Sarah ©2018

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Challenge, #27 – Space Oddity; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, 5 May 2018

Stories by Sarah

Yellow

I glanced down at my bright, new yellow converse and smiled.

“An unnecessary indulgence,” he’d said, “Absurd and childish!”

Like him! I decided, humming the tune of These Boots Are Made For Walkin’, and left him behind, balancing and skipping my way along a matching balustrade.

By Sarah ©2018

Prompt: Only 100 Words, Three Line Tales – Week 108; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Challenge #23 – “These Boots Were Made For Walking”

Stories by Sarah

No Zen


Image credit Dioga Costta

We met at a local coffee shop. The smell of brewing coffee wafted over to the booth where we sat.

It was my first Tinder date and I was nervous as hell. I gripped my coffee mug with white-knuckled fervour, and looked over at my date.

His profile had disclosed his name was ‘Zen’, he was 35 and played piano; a classical specialist. I had thought to myself before I swiped right, that he obviously befitted his namesake. He was good looking, but almost a little too good looking. One of those guys so well manicured, you suspect they may take longer to get ready than you. At least he matched his profile picture. THAT was a bonus.

I thought of my own profile and cringed inwardly at the zany profile picture and lame attempt at humour. My name is Zahara. Like the desert but with a Z….oh well, he had chosen me too.

“So…” he began awkwardly. The silence was becoming uncomfortable. “Nice day out there.”

Oh gees, I thought, the weather? Seriously!? The cards were folding on this relationship already. My zen Zen’s shiny gold paint tarnishing just a little.

“Yeah, looks like Winter may finally be on it’s way out. So Zen, where do you play?” I asked, trying to steer towards a more meaningful topic of conversation.

He looked at me blankly. “Play?”

“Yes. The piano?”

It was only a micro expression, but I saw the light in his eyes flicker a little and register something, as if recalling a lie.

“Oh yes, the piano, right! I wasn’t sure if you meant footy. I play here and there, you know how it is.”

Hmmm, nice elusive answer! I noted to myself.

“Anywhere I’d know?” I probed.

“Probably not,” he replied, shutting that line of questioning down.

I tried again, not willing to surrender just yet. “What do you do for fun?” I enquired. “Do you have any hobbies?”

With that, his face lit up. I looked into his eyes, which were shining bright. Jackpot. I congratulated myself.

“Oh yeessss,” he drawled seductively, “I have very fun hobbies.”

Surprised by the change in his demeanour, I laughed nervously. “Really?”

“Maybe I should show you?” he murmured suggestively.

I didn’t like his tone, and my face flushed with heat. “Ah. Um. How about you just tell me first.”

“Oh that’s no fun. Want to get out of here?” he asked.

Thinking he meant for a walk, I heard myself agreeing. He paid for the coffee and as we left, he slung his arm around my shoulders. We walked a block or so, when he turned me around, pushed me up against a building and began kissing me. His hand moved to my breast.

Shocked, I pulled my mouth away from his, ripped his grubby hand off me and said, “Hey. I’m not okay with that.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” he said matter-of-factly.

“Not. THAT!” I hissed.

“Come on,” he cajoled. “Why waste time with conversation and coffee when you and I both know this is about sex. A bit of fun.”

He leaned in again but I put my hand on his chest and pushed him away. “I’m not having ‘fun’ and especially not with you.”

His eyes darkened and in that moment, his face looked like a demon. He clearly wasn’t used to hearing ‘no’.

“Well, you’re not really my type anyway, sweetheart. I prefer my woman a little…thinner. A little…prettier. A little…more than anything you’re offering.” he sneered.

His words were cruel and played on every insecurity I had. It was as if he had a window into my mind, poking around my secret shame. Humiliated, my face burned as I pushed him away. Making my escape from him, I couldn’t believe I’d been played, assaulted and insulted, all in the space of half an hour. The dating dream had failed. There was no zen. All I had found was a beast woven to a soul.

No more Tinder for me. Next time I’d leave things to fate.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Daily Post Daily Prompt – awkwardmicroconversationpreferexpress; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Writing Prompt #215 – Stories By 5, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Prompt #10, Imagine Dragons – Demons
The five : Topic – a humiliating rejection, Names – Zen and Zahara, Instrument – piano, Scent – brewing coffee, Verb – surrender

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

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: Daily Promp Daily Post, dancing; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Music Prompt #8 – Calm Before The Storm

Stories by Sarah

Walking On Your Hands

Trigger warning: violence against women, moderate language

I should have known things would not end well, after he stormed out of my disastrous 21st birthday, hurling abuse at my parents and running into the night.

Continue reading “Walking On Your Hands”