Archive for creative writing

Much as You’d Think

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on November 5, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Haven’t known what to say to you:
still don’t.
Hurt never went away.
Memories, either.
Pushed myself to be better, more.
Pushed you out of my mind;

If you wonder, this one’s about you
(but not as much as you’d think).

Lose your selfish belief of being selfless, maybe we’ll talk–
if you start with apologies.
Apologies matter.
And I never got mine.
What’s gone is done.
And what is to come probably isn’t us.


–Meant to Be

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on September 25, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

It wasn’t–
You didn’t love me,
and you told me so.

We weren’t–
I got over loving you,
and now you know.

This isn’t–
These words resisted so long,
because I’d let go.


Posted in poetry with tags , , , on September 25, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

You are wisps, lacewings, cobwebs.
You are dreams and memories.
The calculator won’t
add us up properly, dearest.
The darkest rooms won’t
conjure you to me, either.

You are feathers, rainbows, perfume.
You are golden and in-flight.
The computer won’t
find you in search engines.
The brightest spot won’t
draw you to me, either.

One plus light and dark and dreams
still totals one.
When will we be
together, not apart?
When will I be a
part of something greater?


Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on September 25, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Drastic, chaotic things call to me–
drown me in could-be, disown me
for turning away to live something
like normalcy.

Mundane, boring things call to me–
blind me with can-do, bind me
for turning toward a life of

The Weight of Watching

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on August 28, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

In the distance, I watch
as leaves fall–
some still spring-green and fresh,
surely too new to drop away;
some turned crisp from
the heat of many sunny days.

I feel myself drooping
from the weight of watching.
I am a hollowed-out acorn–
empty and exhausted,
incapable of any movement–
except, eventually, down.

Beauty Is (I)

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on June 16, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Beauty is a quiet, long, clean line–

the thin angle of your nose or your

hip, hip, hooray, so small compared with

collar and rib, so fully compact.


Beauty is short, loud, and curvy–

the smell of my perfume hitting you,

a celebration of width and fullness,

shoulders, breasts, wasting away.


Beauty is bold, brash, and calm–

the tongue-taste of summer wine and

somber kisses, the succinctness of sense:

smoky along the line of your lips.

The Graffiti of Aging

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , , on June 14, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

The dusty ghost of old paintings haunts the walls:

reminders that I am not the only tenant in this world.

This is the graffiti of aging–the skin of experience

has found a wrinkle and is beginning to fret, a disused

guitar that needs some strong, grey steely strands.

The spirit of youth is wily, though: a coyote I cannot

outrun; shaking spray cans and laughing. And the question

becomes–not can I catch up, or could you? But can we

choose a color suitable for both the old and for the new?