Author Archives: Sarah

Sparkle trees

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When the trees are glossed in ice
and the sun glances through them with rising fire
They bat the light back and forth, a plaything
And I think
AAAAAAAAAAA THE TREES ARE SPARKLY!!!
*eyes bulge*

 

Sorry. Poetry is just too grandiose, my brain can’t go there when all that’s running through my tiny mind are oh my fucking god the trees are sparkly, sparkles sparkles sparkles. I’ve regressed. Just in typing this, I’ve keyboard smashed so much that I accidentally opened up a bunch of weird windows for which I didn’t know there were keyboard hotkeys, like an HTML debugger. If it’s not what the sparkles have done to my brain, it’s what the cold has done to my fingers.

 

Here’s something random. My boyfriend writes songs for fun. Every once in a while I’ll sing one of his songs for him. Hopefully these blues will gently bring us all back down from the sparkle high.

 

 

Weather monsters

Posted on by 12 comments

 

I think there are giants outside

Trees with frozen fingers drag their unfeeling claws over my roof

Something clatters, rattles bangs.

The freezing rain has brought them.

Weather carries monsters in its wake.

When humans stay fearfully inside their homes,

Creatures of fancy cavort in the open air.

 

Coffee Dog?

Posted on by 6 comments

 

If anyone’s been wondering why I’m not commenting on their site, please don’t think I don’t love you. I’m still trying to figure out where my work/life/blog balance lay. One magical day I will figure out how to work full time and write full time and play full time all at once.

Today, for your viewing pleasure, we have another collaborative masterpiece by Cowdog Creatives and myself.

 

IMG_20190206_084006049

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

unwanted

Posted on by 8 comments

 

abandoned
all around her is emptiness
dark emptiness
where there should be pulsing warmth,
gentle voices of her parents talking to her
instead the cold leeches her skin

she is unwanted
she can’t comprehend
this bright pain
this un-flesh
splitting her from their joined bodies
cutting away the comfort of her mother.

mute, half-formed,
what she mourns she does not know.
she grieves her past, present, and future
loneliness stops her heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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