Sarah Jane Black
Sarah Jane Black Poems
WE think.
We are not mindless,
Yet somehow we sneak into the pretense
That we are.
...
FREE WINGS BURN UP THE SKIES.
I once flew up to the cloud
That kissed the top of the mountain above my house.
I expected to explode in purple, orange and red because that was the color the cloud was made from the sun.
...
The vow wasn't long or tainted with
Words dripped and clad of false enamor
They were tattoos -
Small scrawlings scuttled across my chest.
...
She stares in the mirror—
This girl with multi-hued hair
This girl with bluebell eyes that
Subtly shift colors with the colors she
...
I could no longer wait-
The wait for those months kept
Weaving into the
Pattern of an endless
...
She always knew the world was there—
A constant drum beating in her inconsistent life
Who she didn't know, was, Right.
Right was beaming on her like the full
...
Her wings were folded.
They seemed to be white
but from my view on
The ground, they were
...
I found her in 1944
She was tall and could
Easily be mistaken for a man
If looked at from behind
...
Sarah Jane Black Biography
I was born into a broken family. But it would seem that most of us were in this day. My mom held us together like tattered glue holding splintered wood stuck in the shape of a block. She made a world built entirely of our own imagination. We glimpsed the Beast, but never truly conceptionalized what roamed through life with us. Then, it all came out. Years of pretending, years of denial in order to survive, years of mistakes and hard feelings...it all came out. Sometimes, I wonder how I'm this whole. Other times, I still feel that I'm laid out in the words that were spewed all over this town- in what feels like the world. I believe that we are the very creation of happiness...sometimes it just takes some of us longer to discover this, and believe this. I'd like to believe that I'm almost there. But this is life. Life is a song, that no scientist can sing. We all go in and out of rhythym. - Words of a Silent Poet)
The Best Poem Of Sarah Jane Black
Blinded Mindless
WE think.
We are not mindless,
Yet somehow we sneak into the pretense
That we are.
It’s how They view us—
Nothing can help the pre-paid perception.
We move side to side—
A snake streaking through the burnt sand of the Hot Lands
As time shakes, and our minds quiet into the hum
That They have set for us...
We realize that We want to be free.
With each swipe of imprisonment,
This idea becomes clearer.
Yet we continue...
As the days go by We wonder why we do what we do
We don’t view our lives as a misfortunate deed placed upon Us
Though We do question at times how to handle this.
We’ve decided that it’s too fragile and beyond us for questioning
We know why the caged bird sings.
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4/25/2024 6:39:48 AM # 1.0.0.1119
What a great poem. Keep sharing that talent. Love you