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 Dec 2018 sara
lX0st
Lucid Dreaming
 Dec 2018 sara
lX0st
On nights like this
Tired eyes reminisce
Of a former life
Like French doors opening
To familiar gardens
Where prunes grow on fingers
And lavender blooms
In the iridescent luster
Of warm water droplets
Serenading shoulders
Where reason and chaos blend
Into peach white tea
Swallows carry songs
Through their wings
Stirring decadent incense
Of exhaling trees
Sunlight waltzes with
Saturated leaves
Their indelible patterns
Rhythmic marigold sleeves
Carefree meanders along
Luscious promenade, swathed
In pomegranate-stained poppies
Ripe for the picking
In them, a fragrant ecstasy
Alive inside this memory
 Aug 2018 sara
patty m
Some days I stare aghast

while climbing an asparagas

fleeing away from the everyday

climbing heights spears away

a recluse, whats the use,

hanging round upside down

in my flowing emerald gown

Lettuce bow our heads,

turnip a new leaf,

beet the band, nuff said

I'll try to make this brief.  

I Have A Dream

won't let anyone squash it

as odd as it may seem

some may try to nosh it.

Potatoes appear on the eye witness news

yamma jamma hijinx give me the blues.

Houdini zuchini, green bean almondine,  

The Celery stalks Ears of Corn

What a crazy scene.

Escape I scream,

I need reprieve,

but the veggies won't let

their Sweet Pea leave.


Heads roll, beans snap

I find myself caught in a trap,

a Garden of Eaten.

Onion cry me a river,

carrot me away,

the garden tools make me shiver

and I think I'm on the menu

today.
 Aug 2018 sara
elle jaxsun
running
 Aug 2018 sara
elle jaxsun
i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically
you?

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.
What else can I write, when the evening sets in?
The wintry old road, whispers to my soul-
Gather round the fire, there are
Stories to be told.

What else can I think, if the sky shouldn't sing?
I think I am getting old,
Like the wintry old road.

Like pebbles and mud and water and rust,
There would be time for-
Rebirth and trust,
And hope, I guess...
    But, What else can I think when the evening sets in?
I  think I am old,
    Like an anthem for a sin.

The days and the places,
Are numbered my friend.
The grass, the green
The gorging delight...

All like a bubble might vanish one day-
And What else can I feel and write what may...

I must treat the night with care,
With love, with patience and
With delight if I dare.

Since the pain would recede to the grounds, you see-
   And What else can I think when I am contained to be free?

I wouldn't be proud, and deaf to the
Tones of gloom and of death,
   But what else can I write if the evening rejects?
 Aug 2018 sara
Gheed
She
 Aug 2018 sara
Gheed
She
Her beautiful hazel eyes are captivating
They shined in different shades every time she smiled in the sun
Those dimples of hers
and that curly hair that she slipped her finger through sliding it on her face
The redness of her cheeks and her voice were Enough
But her silence could say so much
And it shatters my heart that I cant decipher what she needs
So I walk away or just laugh it off
my Middle school friend and our relationship that drifted apart
 Jul 2018 sara
medha
{ soulmates }
 Jul 2018 sara
medha
if you
find yourself
constantly trying
to translate your soul's
language for them
they're not the
one for you.
 Jul 2018 sara
She Writes
There is too much regret
In unspoken words
The quiet thoughts
Whispered only to the moon

There is too much longing
In wishful thinking
Daydreams
Can quickly become a nightmare

There are too many tears
Spilled onto pillows
Over suffering and longing
From words unsaid
 Jul 2018 sara
Lora Lee
aurora glide
 Jul 2018 sara
Lora Lee
Gently, she goes
as soft as a fawn
opens the window
and waits for the dawn
fireflies glow
wind caresses her face
as she sheds all the shadows
not leaving a trace
She dons velvet darkness
wrapped in its cloak
releases all poisons,
                 sylphlike,
             in smoke
She is preparing for battle
in her own, quiet way
She only wants wholeness
as she breaks through the gray
For soon she will weave
prismatic wonders of spells
her own inner aurora
lighting heaven from ****
For suffered she has
and it's time to forgive
unlock self-made prisons
and let herself live
and now as sunrise approaches
stars still in sight
she turns the skeleton key
and glides
into
             flight
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
Something I've been working on for a long time on and off since 2015.
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