Tag Archives: Childhood

Bits and Pieces 3

Little bits and pieces of poems which didn’t make the cut for one reason or another, but which I like too much not to post.

 


 

I need sleep.
I need a run.
I need food.
I need happiness
I need a bucket of water
To wet down this
Paper construction life.

 


 

Touch me green
Get your fucking hands off of me.
Touch me black
You stay three feet back.
Touch me red
I will wring your neck.
Touch me purple
Leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Touch me yellow
It’s almost right but not quite.
Touch me blue
You. You. You.

 


 

Whirling florating colors
A hickory tree
Something sustainable
A light wind
And in blows kudzu
Invasive, edible
Too much for us
We prefer beef
So we watch our roadsides die.

 


 

Kiss me kindly
Delicately
Like marzipan
Like frangipani
Like gelato
I want to taste
Your magic motion
I want to feel
The things you think
I want to smell
Your expressions.
What scent are you expressing now?
Yes.
Express it in my direction.
Please.

 


 

Cold cream
Ice cream
Wet milk
Butter.
Cheese
All the cheese
As many strains of cheese
As there are molds
As many molds
As there are humans to eat them.
Cheese.

 


 

We can’t play
On the old tire swing anymore.
Somebody’s fat ass broke it.
We can’t sing
The old songs anymore
They’re no longer allowed.
This is what it is to grow up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going on a Vacation!

 

I’m going on a trip to the Grand Canyon! I leave early tomorrow, so just a few hours from now. I’m excited to see the beauty of a real desert. Checking it off the bucket list! 

I’ll be gone all next week and maybe the one after that. Please don’t expect me to an amazing, or consistent, or even existent blogger. I will return, with a scalp full of sand and a mind full of ventifact geometry.

Maybe this is a good time to post this one. Not even sure if it counts as a poem, just food for thought.

 


 

Running out of time

How much is left

To do what we want

To do what others want

What kind of a bucket list should we have?

 

Here is a bucket list written by a six-year-old.

 

– sit in hot tub

– visit grandma and grandpa

– catch frogs

– see a movie with mom

 

This is how simple life can be.

She has no agenda

No outside influence

On what a bucket list should say.

Her world is small and rich.

No popular tourist destinations

No huge purchases

No revenge 

No regrets.

All she wants

Is to spend her time doing what she enjoys

With people she loves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

going up the hill to the house, we

 

going up the hill to the house, we
saw flowers that she loved, and picked them
black eyed susans, sweet williams, daisies, columbine.
we gripped them in our plump warm hands.
by the time we made it, panting,
having stopped for toads and all the small things,
we presented them to her half-wilted.
“ragweed gives me allergies” she would say, plucking one of them out.
the rest would go in a vase of honor on the kitchen table
a small token of each others’ love.

going down the hill to the creek, we
see flowers that she loved, and pluck them
dandelions, sweet williams, violets, asters.
at the bottom trickles clear water
over mossy gray rocks
and we tip her ashes in.
they are white
like her hair
pure white
like her devotion
white like the sugar in her blood
white
like the angels she adored.
they swirl the water opaque
atop it we scatter the flowers
a painter’s palette of Missouri colors
blackberry, butter yellow, sap green, slate.

the sandy ashes sink.
it takes a full hour for them to wisp away
grain by grain into the gentle landscape.
we’re used to waiting for her.
no matter how we tried to rush,
she always did move slowly,
tasting her fine wine time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Journal – the best compliments

I realized I’ve been hiding my real writings recently.  Oops, bad Sarah. No secrets. Be open.

It sure was comfortable while it lasted, haha.

 

Something nice to muse upon… what is the best compliment you ever received?

 


I was watching old home movies
I saw mom laughing again
The elegance in her hands
Her purity

Kid me came up to her with the camera
I said, “What are your thoughts on life?”
“I’m for it,” she quipped.
“What are your thoughts on death?”
“Also for it.”
Her philosophy would be tested and proved
later in life,
later in death.
She may not have known this word for it,
But she was very Tao.

I always saw mom in me
Her philosophical side,
Her creativity
Her crazies
Her acceptance.

The best compliment I ever received
Was from friends who never really knew mom
They told me I was just like Dad.
Something I had never considered before.
But once I did I knew it was true.

I got his outrageous side,
His caring
His extroversion
His stoicism
His sense of humor.

Both were nonconformist
Both were strong
Both were smart
Both were brave
Both were loving.

I am lucky, so lucky
To have had such parents
I am lucky to have a family
Bound tightly together in common tragedy
I know true tribalism
It’s wonderful
To know who you are
To have a place
To have a role.

Everyone has ever been so good to me
As good as they knew how
They have taught me how to be good to others
Some lessons better than others
I am grateful for everyone
I try to deserve what I have
But not too hard.
Trying too hard to deserve something
Makes you deserve it less,
grow unbalanced.
I must love me
If I am to love others.
Odd that being in the presence of my heroes
Should make me feel so small
We spend our time
Building each other up
And I always leave
Feeling smaller
Undeserving
These people are my people
My family
I love them unconditionally
And they me
I just have to love myself
Unconditionally.

The cat gave me a compliment today.
She waited outside the shower for half an hour
I take long showers
And when I came out
She purred, happy to see me
Rubbed against my wet leg
Knowing she would get wet
Deciding it was worth it.

My sister tells me to come visit.
I say, I have a nasty cold.
She says, then I’ll make you soup.
The joy of my visit outweighs
The physical discomfort I bring.

Love should not be measured in sacrifice.
The pleasure should outweigh the pain
By a grand margin.
However, it can be a small proof
Here and there
Little heartwarming gestures.
Someone gives you roses
You know they gave up some time and money for them.
Someone gives you food
They made just for you.
Someone reads your blog
Every day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Fairies

I got into my journals and copied down a few of my old poems. This is one of my oldest “keepers.” I wrote it for my friend who loved fairies. I must have been… thirteenish? …at the time, so excuse any clumsiness.

This was back when my brain was on 24/7 Lord of the Rings marathon setting. Can you tell? 😀

 


 

For Ellen

 

They flit through field and fen

They wantonly roll and rollick

Wings that are gossamer thin

They employ in their carefree frolick

A delicate build they bear

With faces exceedingly fair

They’re strong but lighter than air

With flowers in their hair.

They have an aire of peace,

Gaiety, innocence, love,

They do what their hearts please

Worrying they’re above.

They drink dewdrops in the morn

They suck sweet nectar from flowers

For laughter they were born

And to play away the hours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

« Older Entries