Archive for writing

Up by Feeling

Posted in poetry with tags , , on January 23, 2015 by Sarah aka Sarjé

I’m not myself, lately.
Words have been
hard to come by.

Too much space
has been taken
up by feeling
things I am still not
quite convinced
aren’t dreamed.

But I know myself:
the strength of my
imagination is too
slight to have thought
of anyone as wonderful–
as raw, as rare, as real, as you.

I worry, though.
If I’m not myself,
who do you love?

So. I’m trying to
find the words to say
unspeakable things.



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

For (you/me)

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

Despite how lazy
I seem to be,
I can’t stand still–
I can’t wait

For you.

I’ve been alternating
Between still and racing,
Between silent and screaming.

For you.

In spite of how hoarse
I am, you’re deaf,
And imagined…so,

For me:

I’m not seeking,
Or screaming, or

But no matter what,
It still seems that
I’m writing.

For me.

for you.

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.

Eventually Asking

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

And we find ourselves eventually asking–
Did I tell you I love you today?
The answer is no, usually.

Because love is too much, too often.

If you find yourself eventually asking–
Did she love me and say nothing?
The answer is yes, always.


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

Call to the beyond,
Hail a cab to mystery, and
Await a stranger.
No need to worry.
Trust in this–in life.

Believe in the road below.
Overhead: dark sky,
With an open destination.

So goes the time–
Lasting as long as
I have the money or the
Charm to keep trekking;
Endeavoring to find you.

Do you feel my pulse in yours?
Reaching out through an
Infinite span of nothingness, deep-
Veined. We are a flowing fountain of
Everythingness; so ready for this.

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.