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She changes with the seasons.
Sara stores her secrets
in the harvest diary she keeps.
Shes natural in the Autumn
her smile can freeze doubt,
she has arms wide to be a comforter,
providing shelter from your woes  !
George Greenbaum Nov 2017
It's a dark world, hope it's just passing her by
because every day that gets to passing
is just another cloud in the sky
circumstance made her dance till she couldn't breathe
now she breathes freely, but she's asking me leave
it's not hard to believe, wore hard feelings on my sleeve
feelings that were misguided, beyond what you perceive
turned those feelings into words, and those words weren't well recieved
wes parham Nov 2017
Slow is her progress and high is her climb,
It's measured in arcs that trace my night sky.
I spoke and she answered, but only in rhyme,
Across space and time, the poetess and I.

In my dream we met, and she told me she'd written,
Something dear to her kind heart- a poetic creation.
For Sara herself, I was utterly smitten,
And I urged her to share it, with awkward elation.

I rambled then, foolish, and shy to be near,
Since her words had already reached me before.
In a future that’s past yet, paradoxically, here,
And knowing, not knowing, just what was in store.

“There's a poem that you wrote...”, I had started to say,
“In the Bradbury story, I think that's the one”,
“There's an automated house that's going through it's day...”,
“It recites your piece aloud...?  but the people have all gone...?”

“ ‘There will come soft rains’,dear friend”, her reply,
And her smile said, “thank you.  I'm glad you recall”,
But this one is shorter”, and her voice was a sigh,
It’s a different theme, but encompasses all”.

Then, as you'd expect, in the midst of a dreaming,
She opened her notebook and the next thing I knew,
Four lines of writing appeared, only seeming,
To arrange themselves magical, universal and true.

——————————————————
"Moon's  Ending"  by Sara Teasdale

Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill,
In the dawn clouds flying,
How good to go, light into light, and still
Giving light, dying.

——————————————————

Every step of our lives, we are walking the line,
Fail or succeed, illuminated in the trying,
The moon is just as bright when she's on the decline,
Our light, consolation to the living or dying.

Thank you, poets. You gave everything that you could,
When you’d make something holy from the simplest spark.
Thank you, friend, for understanding. I had hoped that you would.
Thank you, Sara, for writing the light and the dark.
https://soundcloud.com/flowermouth/moons-ending-with-wes-parham

This is for another collaboration with a composer in the Netherlands, Dennis Ramler.   He wrote a composition inspired by a poem that he loves called "Moon's Ending" by Sara Teasdale and asked if I could write something to mix in.  This is what I came up with.    I'll post a soundcloud link once Dennis has mixed and mastered his track.   The idea was a dream-memory in which the speaker meets Sara just as she has written "Moon's Ending" and entreats her to share it.  They ramble awkwardly about another poem of hers that was used in a short story by Ray Bradbury.  The poem is followed by, basically, a paraphrasing of how I interpret "Moon's Ending" and the final stanza is gratitude for poetry, poets, friendship, understanding, and for Sara who wrote so lyrically about beauty, love, life, and death, each in equal measure of respect and gratitude.
Sara Reilly Apr 2016
Dear doctor, your goodbye

I am prescribed
to watch you
Perfidious dying star
Whose brilliant life
Dilated my eyes
A drug of promise
A Light on black water
I've been treading
And will tread
And will tread

Already nova
You disintegrate
Protracted
Yet instantaneously
Even as you sit so still
Composed while decomposing
Impossibly looking and
Not looking at me
Your disappearance is blinding
And massive
A denied inevitability
that quietly explodes me
Your nothingness
Crashes over me in waves
As I roll without direction beneath
Where the bottom used to be

Watch how easy it is
For you to take me apart
With your words
See my soft pieces writhe
mute on the floor
Disassembled
By a sentence
Betrayed by your mouth
Only my thoughts remain
Swimming aimlessly
Toward what is gone
Wanting to be known
Knowing they are hopeless
As cries underwater

tears on skin
Will evaporate
instantly
you will forget
their tiny sacrifices
Hundreds of brief lives
lived only
in your name
Hundreds of deaths for you
Miniature castaways
Of me
crying a siren's song
Sinking me further
Because it is my nature to
Give pieces of myself away
Trying to become complete
Until suddenly
I am gone entirely
Wanting to take you with me
Between the two of us
Someone is accidentally
A natural born killer

In the wake of
silent violence this
professional abandoning
is the collapse of gravity
of what I know
you know you mean to me
and then
you promise to never
ever
be my friend and
you will make sure
I will never ever
see you again
Subzero affect
forever treacherous end
this is the part when
i turn inside out
and self destruct in front of you
Spectacularly
as you watch  --  help-less-ly
Intentionally not saving me
Because what you do for a living
is killing me

I will tire of treading water
Because everybody drifts away
And I am so heavy
And broken
built to drown
And your goodbye
is the fullest
Of endings
Pulling me down
In progress
Nawal Fatima Rai Dec 2015
She’s a paradox,
So beautiful yet so chaotic,
You’re lucky if you have her,
And even luckier if you win her,
She’s unreal.

You can sit by her,
As you clean
 out your heart,
You can laugh at her,
As she trips 
over her life’s little untamed tales,
You can watch her struggle with 
the fake,
Creatures she doesn’t deserve to know,
You can hold her hand as an assurance,
That good still exists.

Its since i’ve known her that,
I feel my fingers tremble ever so little,
As I read love letters from lovers,
Whose faces I’ve forgotten,
And find
 tumblr feelings I had forced myself to misplace.

She lends me a hand with the 
heavy boxes,
But lets me take the
 heaviest ones,
They’re the most
 precious things,
That I have ever claimed
 as mine,
And though I trust her with my 
heart,
I don’t think I trust my own.

She sits by me as I clean
 out this old rotten place,
But doesn’t offer to
 help me do the same,
She teaches me life lessons,
Only for me to break down on a whole,
And then repair myself,
Because now when I’m reconstructed,
He can’t deconstruct me.
Trevon Haywood Nov 2015
WHEN I am dead and over me and bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.
I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful.
When rain bends down the bough,
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Than you are now.

Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
Sara Leal Sep 2015
Sara,
People keep calling my name.
Sara,
Silence it's all they get from me.
Why?
I don't talk with people who pretend to like me.
Sara*,
That's my name.
English version
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