No Muse

My mind is an empty echoing hall
with sounds bouncing off
it's grey brains walls
There is no muse for inspiration
and romanticizing verse
is like constipation.

poem by Sara Fielder
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Rebecca Berkowitz

She writes love on her arms
Drips it on pages
Goes to the bathroom
to
pick her nose
Then
worships the sages
Don't look now
She's playful

Written by Sara Fielder © 2012

poem by Sara Fielder
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Rejection

When the shit hit the fan
he crumpled her up like a bad poem
and threw her in the waste can
Her loneliness recycled by the pilferers
that lived in landfill-land
Becoming scum
Like them

poem by Sara Fielder
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Coctail Hour

I am floating in a world
that makes no sense to me
as pickled as the olive in your glass
It doesn't buy me any class
and I can't purchase reason
when the fog is too thick to borrow from

poem by Sara Fielder
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A Chipped Shoulder

Stop trying to be my friend
I know you're a nice person
Nice people need acceptance
But,
you're barking up the wrong tree
I don't need acceptance
I only need to be liked by me

By Sara Fielder © 2012

poem by Sara Fielder
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Still My Heart Lord

Be still, this heart of mine
that quickens when
I pause to think of You and welcome in
Your everlasting love
erasing shame,
and fill my eyes with mercy tears
that gain
a brand new view
of stars above my head,
that twinkle all away
my worldly dread.

poem by Sara Fielder
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Geisha Moon

Snow white powdered geisha moon
Peering in my dim bedroom
Casting shadows on the wall
Satin cloud sleeves quiet full
Of brooding mood and jealousness
Because the suns hues when they set
Outshine that pale paste face of yours
Instead of many palette hers

poem by Sara Fielder
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Backward in Time

Backward in time my mind becomes
a Mikimoto pearl of gleaming white
that casts a glow of moon upon
a lap strake skiff at night
A light wind breeze,
and lapping sea
where trades are softly pushing,
the canvas worn
southwest toward
where dolphin smiles are mooring.

poem by Sara Fielder
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Recovery

Frantic jolts
of adrenaline
mask my symptoms when

I see
you,

and fix

the sickness of withdrawl
I've carried around for days
like a heavy sob.

I smell your sweat
sticking to my cilia...

resting on my teeth like lust,
feeding this sweet sour addiction.

[...] Read more

poem by Sara Fielder
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Sheets

Sheets,
Every night you wrestle me down
aggressive and determined to have your way
with your sandpaper grit grip
We are a writhing tangle of arms, legs and
posture pedic mattress fabric
My princess and the Petri's dish wish to sleep
goes on for hours as you gang bang me until
you win.

poem by Sara Fielder
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