Archive for inspired by music

Some Folks

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on August 23, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

Some folks will turn a happening
Into an event.
Some folks will turn a crush into an
Some folks will make a little love into
A lifetime.

Me? I ain’t some folks, I’m all folks and
No folks.
I ain’t gonna judge your moments, your loves.

God knows I’ve had more than my fair share.


The Song Bends to You

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on June 4, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

At night I’d cradle you like an upright bass:

too tall for me to play the lowest notes on.

You know how to sing just as sweet in a cello’s

tone. And you’re wound tight in places, but

your tuning pegs get loose when it’s cold.

You still sound good to me. Somehow you are

never are out of tune, or maybe the song

just bends to you, like I would. If only I could

once cradle you, like a sleeping bass, and

sing a ballad, a standard to you. With you.

On the Way Up

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on April 26, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

This is the last time I will be anything but

doubtful of anyone who isn’t you,

whoever you are, wherever, in that endless

moment, looking in through pain, glassy but

certain, high: mounting to climb a long way

alone. I know that we are strangers and will

probably be old or dead or nothing before we

can rest from the climb. But I’ll keep going,

on this lonely road that I have chosen, seeking up,

going my own way and thinking always of you.

Cage (I: Ashes and Dust)

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on April 7, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

I was not cut from a shroud’s cloth,

but I will cut a rug with you

and stay dry under your umbrella.

I was not produced by man’s ribs,

but I would gladly take up residency

inside the cage of yours.

My ashes and dust cannot be claimed,

because they are still blood and love

pumping through my treelike veins.

Till the Sun Went Down

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on April 6, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

I didn’t feel so good till the sun went down,

I didn’t feel so high till I entered the valley,

I wouldn’t be square without you comin’ round,

and I wouldn’t know the street without this alley.


I didn’t feel stable till I went through barn doors,

I didn’t feel hoarse till I started to speak,

I wouldn’t know how to dance without fours,

and I wouldn’t call without feeling a little meek.


I didn’t feel so low till you went away,

I didn’t feel the drought till I hit the peak,

I wouldn’t be round without three squares a day,

and I wouldn’t be in the alley without a street to seek.

the ceiling

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

Doesn’t the ceiling look huge,

dark and blue and clear way up there?

Doesn’t it make you feel tiny,

like you could break trying to break through?

Doesn’t it look big, with the storm clouds rolling in?

Are you tired, yet, of trying to catch everybody’s drift?

Don’t you want to climb up into that sky,

and get lost in the greyness of it all?

Don’t you just want to grow up, a little?

Get your back off the floor, start swimming on your own?

Don’t you want to see the stars someday?

Or are you content to keep looking

at the ceiling, tall and huge, way far away?


Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on April 4, 2014 by Sarah aka Sarjé

I have a bluegrass soul and a folk face,

the Appalachians are running down my spine,

somehow the country never got out of my life–

and some days all I wanna do is climb up there

and yodel till the horse comes to break me.

And I can’t play guitar and I can barely sing,

losing octaves to the years’ sting,

and I don’t really know what it’s like in Kentucky–

maybe I should consider myself lucky but

I want to yodel till I’m alive again.