Apart
I don't love your pretty
anymore.
I wretch up chunks of vomit on the floor
and walk through it in bare feet
with a train
that trails behind and drags your lies
through them.
I scald contaminated
conscience thin,
to try and keep your spores from
getting in,
and suffocate myself with
fragrant soap,
to wash away my hate
with pope on rope.
And above all this
sickened strong distain,
I'll kill myself to see
once again.
poem by Sara Fielder
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200 Corpses
In the field of books
where people have no faces
I entered innocently
to look among the pages
They smacked gum on and on and on
all the dizzy dirty blonde day long
There were about two hundred of them
Maybe they were jaded
Silas said it was as pretty as apples
and they were kindly nice to me at first
licking my face with golden leaves
and it was so seductively maddening
that I had to throw them in the fire
before they ate me
poem by Sara Fielder (2012)
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I Wish
I wish I was a sparrow
with stick legs and onyx eyes
I'd sip the garden fountain
and I'd beat my arms to fly
I wish was the fountain
spilling water clear and clean
A place for them to land on
Oh, how happy I would be
I wish I was the water
pouring out into the bowl
For water is just water
and it has no tale of woe
I wish I was the score
of music water droplets make
for any of, or all above
are better than my fate
poem by Sara Fielder
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Sacrifice
Purple sky,
tinged with dark cobalt blue…..
I sense my soul turn inside out for you.
Full moon mistress
swirls her ivory gown,
trimmed with majestic lace
handmade in town
by women in French vintage shops
on Siene,
that have peculiar, interesting names.
Hypnotizing siren,
you entrance
[...] Read more
poem by Sara Fielder
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Unrecogizable
Mother,
you are not living,
nor dying,
just frozen in between two worlds
like a hopeless holocaust victim.
Skeletal,
too frail to make a fist,
and abandoned by hope.
[...] Read more
poem by Sara Fielder
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Little Yellow Butterflies
Little yellow butterflies
smaller than a dime
I wanted conversation
but you didn't have the time
I saw you in the meadow
tasting clover and sweet grass
your paper wings beat faster
as you flew from my harass
I watched you half an hour
‘cause I had nowhere to go
while the sun beat down around us
in the midday ever glow
then I chased you to the sidewalk
where my afternoon began
and I said 'Let Peace be with you'
as I waved a goodbye hand
poem by Sara Fielder
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Out Of Time
There's something stuck
in my craw.
It feels like a heavy wad of dirt.
I try swallowing it,
and it won't go down.
I fight to cough it up
but it will not budge.
It's blocking my airway
as stubborn and defiant as unforgiveness.
White static noise roars in my ears
as I begin to pass out
and travel through a tunnel of darkness closing in on all sides.
A pinpoint of light is at the end
and I know that I only have seconds left
to let go of my
resentment.
poem by Sara Fielder
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Tober
'I'm good at being bad', he said
I knew it all too well
For in the time I'd known him
He'd done nothing but rebel
Drugs were his pocket
A knife strapped to his belt
He'd kick your ass for nothing
Then he'd tell you 'Go to hell'
And the ladies?
Oh, they love him
Not because he's debonair
He chews them up and spits them out
Without the smallest care
And in the hours past midnight
Questioning what makes him tick
I'd tell myself I'm like him
But perhaps that makes me sick
poem by Sara Fielder
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My Death Wish
Carve me like a pumpkin
With a cap upon my head
Scoop out my brains to mix with yeast
And knead them into bread
Cut out my eyes so I can’t see
The evil everywhere
And use them to play pool with
Doesn't matter
I don’t care
Snip off my hair to knot and braid
A rope that I can use
To tie around my woeful neck
And end it none to soon
And with what’s left
Chop, blend and mix
A tonic that will grow
A crop of red tomatoes in
The Summer you might sow
[...] Read more
poem by Sara Fielder
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Birthday Suit
Laying in the avocado meadow
I watched the clouds sail past
on their ocean carpet today
Leaden silver bottoms about to burst
Shifting shapes into animals I did not know
Their enormous eyes watched with jealously
as you painted flowers on my skin
I lay as still as a flat line
not wanting to awaken from
the mad rush of love I felt
or to disturb each soft brush stroke
and the attention to detail placed upon
making the blank canvas readable
and cover over it's wounds with
royal purple and gold
poem by Sara Fielder
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