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Wander through eternity
In this present limbo—
this twisting trail of time;
Taste the saccharine surreal
Of the cold November
Let our axle withstand the burden
Of your pain.
And if the ride is tiring,
I’ll slow my pace again.
So if you want to love me,
Darlin’ don’t refrain.
Partly a found poem, using lyrics from “November Rain” by Guns N’ Roses and A line from the journals of Sylvia Plath.
Oct 8 · 276
Parting Wind
Sarah Munoz Oct 8
The wind soughed between
Serpentine trees, stirring leaves
To part with branches
Sarah Munoz Oct 7
Uninterrupted bits of borrowed time
And a crescent glass of scarlet wine
(No, make that a full glass)

Feather of pillow from cozy nook
Two chapters of a classic, leather-bound book

One sandpaper file and tweezers of brow
And a hint of purple polish called
The Cat’s Meow

Put it all together and leave her to rest
And that, My Dear, may stand the test.

Heed this advice: To make potion more potent, add a morsel of chocolate as black as night to give her eyes back their light.
Fall prompt
Sarah Munoz Oct 4
I have a carved
Out heart.
The inner me gutted
Of seeds and mush—
Mutated and illuminated
With light,
To comfort others
At night.
Oct 3 · 45
Leaf in the Wind
Sarah Munoz Oct 3
Just a leaf
In the wind,
I spin and I bend
Thrown left and right
My aging yellow edges torn,
Tatter-tossed in a tumble,
Till caught by
A cornerstone.
Oct 1 · 149
Autumn Leaves
Sarah Munoz Oct 1
Like leaves in autumn change hue,
My colors have changed
With you.
Seventeen, still green,
You asked me to dance.
Our arms swayed and interlocked
Like branches of a tree.
You had (still have) this tendency
To make me grow,
With you.

Twenty years have passed
And we can no longer
Claim to be green,
But each ring
Of this tree of life
We’ve shared,
Each turning leaf,
Is a chapter spent
With you.
For my husband
Sep 10 · 171
Sarah Munoz Sep 10
I’m leaving
The porch
Light on
For the
To make
A spectacle
Of themselves.
Sep 3 · 49
In the White Fog
Sarah Munoz Sep 3
Wisdom sits between forehead wrinkles
Hammered by time
Yearning to escape when the fog places its
Arms around you in a chock-hold, wringing out
Rivers of fear through your
You don’t know when
Or where the white haze will manifest,
Unless you can
Sense it
In your bones,
Like a soothsayer
Entering another realm.
Not many are able
To escape the silence.
Aug 30 · 56
Laburnum Glow
Sarah Munoz Aug 30
The gleam of honey-sweet
              So flamelike
             Of birds
                           In flight
Aug 23 · 34
What is Covered
Sarah Munoz Aug 23
Hidden in mudstone,
Masked as mundane to the
Brood of juvenescence
Echoing from cracked
It’s sealed in spilt milk,
Passed by in dusty framed photographs
Mounted on walls.
It’s within the rejecting and accepting
Of affectionate embrace:
The aging hands
Sometimes, but not always,
The ageless souls
Who have chosen
Each other.
Aug 20 · 44
Sarah Munoz Aug 20
A change came;
The clouds
                               A percolation
Of light, a gleam
                        Seen so narrowly,
So sparsely, that the eye
           Might conceive that its own memory
Was recreating
                 That which was still absent.
Aug 18 · 398
Shadow Longing
Sarah Munoz Aug 18
Wearing dusk
The moonlight shadow
Some dreamy fear,
Some longing
I felt in my heart.
Aug 18 · 45
Sarah Munoz Aug 18
His words
He had not known
A similar experience;
He had merely shot
An arrow into the air.
Had it hit the mark?
Aug 17 · 42
Wave Song
Sarah Munoz Aug 17
A wave fell—
        It crashed and sank
                               In the sand,
                    Singing to itself.
Aug 15 · 39
Blue Ridge Roots
Sarah Munoz Aug 15
I’m from where moonshine
Is still gifted at gatherings,
Where it was once
Rubbed on teething babies’ gums
And used as cough syrup—
Still is, by some.
Where the mountains look like
Birthing hips, and little ones still skinny dip
In water holes during the heat of summer,
Or in flowing rivers lined with cows and folks
Awaiting baptism;
Each day older
And reborn.
Aug 14 · 151
Sarah Munoz Aug 14
The last lights of old age
The broken mirror
of memory
            So many
Aug 14 · 49
Sarah Munoz Aug 14
A portal
To subconscious dimension
Soul diving into the
Elfchen Poem
Aug 13 · 570
Sarah Munoz Aug 13
Beckon love
Bear birthing babes
Beloved in a lullaby
Elfchen Poem
Sarah Munoz Aug 11
Anxious for the future
As the world is
En route to reopening
I fall forward
With caution and a map toward normalcy—
Posterity will be bright
If we learn from our mistakes

(Now Read From Bottom to Top)
Aug 5 · 86
Sarah Munoz Aug 5
A conduit
Of linking bones
Keeping our provisional existence

A binding
Of linking pages
Keeping our delicate minds
Elfchen: originally a mirror elfchen, but I couldn’t format correctly on this site.
Sarah Munoz Aug 5
“All Lives Matter” has no meaning.
There is no way
The phrase spawned for the right reasons.
If you say “All Lives Matter”
You are ignoring racial discrimination—
I have never believed that
Those who say “All Lives Matter” mean it.
It is plausible that
Issues exist with justice, ethics, and equality.
Firsthand, I have witnessed that
We should heed the words “All Lives Matter.”

(Now Read From Bottom Up)
Aug 4 · 78
Rise to the Occasion
Sarah Munoz Aug 4
As I rise
The weight of dread shackles me
“Quit worrying,” I tell myself.
My lungs draw in the last safe, dawn air.
I grab my blue face mask and teacher’s badge
As I rise
This can be read as a reverse poem.
Aug 4 · 38
Lost in Translation
Sarah Munoz Aug 4
Mi Amor,
You whittled away my words,
Reconfigured the pieces in your ear,
And made them what you wanted to hear.
Sarah Munoz Aug 3
It’s important to use our heads
In times like these
If we let our emotions overtake us
We might be indefinitely chasing our tails

(Now Read From Bottom Up)
It’s the same message either way you flip it!
Aug 3 · 21
Within Us Always
Sarah Munoz Aug 3
Within us always,
Like a virus to a host cell, our memory
Forever altered
By the fear of growing numbers perched on
Headlines like black crows gawking at us,
Rattling their grating subsong until we  
Throw a monument stone at all that feels
Unjust with the world from past to present—
Hoping to connect
Through conflict and polypropylene
Barriers. Even through
The fear of growing numbers perched on
Headlines like black crows gawking at us,
Rattling their grating subsong until
Our memory is forever altered,
Like a virus to a host cell,
Within us always.
A sort of palindrome poem.
Jul 14 · 137
I Remind Myself
Sarah Munoz Jul 14
I can’t feed you my fear.
You thrive from the calmness
That springs from my well-being.
But recently those waters have drained
Into a subterranean chamber—
Almost too difficult to reach.
Sarah Munoz Jul 13
We should fully reopen schools.
You will never persuade me that
A staggered plan is the best plan.
The longer this pandemic continues reaffirms
“Covid-caution comes at too high a price.”
You won’t hear me repeating fallacies like,
“Public health and safety is a public effort!”
When all is said and done,
A phased reopening will ruin our economy.
Some people are under the impression that
Schools carry the weight of the world!
Now Read From Bottom to Top
Jul 12 · 26
Masks (a Reverse Poem)
Sarah Munoz Jul 12
It’s pointless to wear a mask!
Don’t try to convince me that
Covid-19 is a massive world-wide pandemic—
Because when you get down to it,
It mainly affects the elderly and those At Risk.
Even if
Some “Healthy” people die from the virus
The news is just trying to frighten us.
And it’s not true that
We should wear masks!
Now Read Bottom Up
Sarah Munoz Jul 8
Immigrants take our jobs.
Never will a smart person say,
Immigrants contribute to our society.
That is wrong, the truth is
We have some bad hombres here—
Thinking that
We actually need Immigrants—
Is Fake News! And we know
That building a wall
Is the way to go.
Being open, accepting, and diverse
Is a dangerous thing to do.
Making America Great Again
Will not be easy, but we will try.
Keeping our country great
Is something immigrants never did.
Taking what was ours
Was how they handled their problems.
Working hard
Is a joke.
We know that
Immigrants take our jobs.

(Now Read Bottom to Top)
Reverse Poem (Now Read Bottom to Top)
Sarah Munoz Jul 7
I am divided.
I cannot say that
I haven’t always been divided—
Independence means for me to be this way.
I have no true loyalty.
It would be wrong to say,
My citizens truly care
If I let them destroy me:
The affect would be massive
(Only if I were flawless)
I am less than glorified.
No body can convince me that
I am United.

(Now Read From Bottom Up)
Shadow Poem
Jul 4 · 47
Sarah Munoz Jul 4
An aerial shell
A multitude of star pods
Erupts in night sky
Sarah Munoz Jul 4
I see my husband mow the yard
With the same zeal as a kid
Drives a power-wheeler.
He curves around the play-set,
Like a bird dives toward a car,
Just missing the collision.
And though I have no inclination to trade places
In this July heat—
It sure looks fun.
May 27 · 46
Training Wheels Off
Sarah Munoz May 27
My daughter took off
Like a fledgling bird in flight,
Soaring over unforgiving ground.

I surveyed at a distance
As she wheeled in with the flock
Of afternoon bike-riders.

Holding my breath,
I waited for the scream, “Mommy!”
And visualized her skin scraped
Like a cracked egg.
But I heard only the pedals bearing
Her drive.

A few days following,
It came about: the first bike injury—
A ****** knee—ironically
Shaped like a heart.
She limped next to me as
I held on to toddler brother with one hand
And pulled her bike with the other.
She didn’t complain that I didn’t have
A hand for hers.

Once home, I bandaged her wound
As she preened her eyes and cheeks
From tears, begging to go back out and play.
I took a deep breath, nodded,
and nudged her back out of the nest.
May 15 · 122
A Frolic in Rainfall
Sarah Munoz May 15
Balayage sky—
Dark grey to blue,
We witnessed the transition
From spring to early summer
In the onset of a heat storm.

I called my daughter in from play
To our garage, a makeshift kid cave.
But the cloudburst had already reached her,
Sousing her clothes.
Her kid skort dripped like a pink rain cloud
Over her 6-year-old toes.

Meanwhile the sentience of rain and his sister’s glee
Spurred blue-eyed baby brother
To greet the waterfall
Caused by overflowing gutters
Atop our garage door.

With arms reaching upward,
Siblings zigzagged in the rain—an Ode to Joy.
And I surrendered
The overprotective mother
I was when my daughter was my son’s age.
I let my kids have their rain dance.
I soaked it in.
And then,
The thunder clapped.
A work in progress
May 10 · 44
Sanctuary Seed
Sarah Munoz May 10
“That feeling of ‘I want my mom’ has no age limit, no time limit, and no distance limit.” -unknown

My mother’s house, I once called home.
Ethereal and fleeting
I wished to crawl back
Down that graveled circle road
Under the blanket of swaying Sycamore trees.

Lady Banks and Pink Knock Outs
Frame her blue house in a nostalgic portrait.  

I wanted to crawl up the stairs
To my childhood room,
Be tucked into my thinned, hourglass quilt,
A calm, consoling mother’s kiss
Planted on my head.

I wanted to rest my mind
From this Adulthood,
For just a moment.

But then I realize I have become
For mine what my mother was for me:
My children’s sanctuary.
May 6 · 38
Life, As I Know It
Sarah Munoz May 6
Follow me
Into the corner
Of my suburban sector.

The view of our neighborhood pond
Is obscured by tiny hand prints—
A sort of stained glass window.

Jovial squeals accompany
fast-footed thumping,
As sister herds toddler brother
From her enclave to his.

Their sounds are a heartbeat
In this otherwise quiet house.

Blanket forts and scattered toys
Barricade easy exits,
But there is no place I’d rather be,
As my children are the ones who bring
Life to me.
May 5 · 53
Sweet Dreamer
Sarah Munoz May 5
The breaths of my little co-sleeper
are as soothing as the ocean sounds
I use to lull him to sleep.
His lips form a dreamer’s smile
Assuring me his mind is at ease
In some sweet moment.
May 3 · 49
Sarah Munoz May 3
When a wish takes flight
Its seeds spiral through the air
Ready to take root
May 3 · 406
Ode to My Backyard
Sarah Munoz May 3
My backyard, my new staycation!
As we remain in isolation
For an indefinite amount of time,
My backyard is my ONLY peace of mind.
My kids can play in the sandbox all day
Or, they can play with the sprinkler, either way!
My backyard is my sanity
(This is just between you and me)
There is also a Slip’N Slide
And plenty of room to seek-and-hide
Or, is it hide-and-seek?
You see, I’ve reached my peak!
Yes, my backyard is my new staycation
As we remain in isolation
For an indefinite amount of time.
Sarah Munoz May 1
I have used up
all the Sanitizer
that was in
the cabinet

and which
you were probably
for a pandemic or something

Forgive me…
have you met our children?
so sticky
and so boisterous
May 1 · 55
Sarah Munoz May 1
Cool, sweet
Comforting treat
Nesting in a cone.
Enjoy these moments
As they melt
So suddenly
May 1 · 50
Sarah Munoz May 1
Those dark curtains
Seem to hold us in
Open them
Let the light in
Look out
What have you been missing?
The grass turns greener, the trees bloom pink blossoms.
They flurry down.
Look in
What have you been missing?
That voice that whispers, “Everything will be alright.”
Though apart,
Together, we will bring back the Light.

— The End —