Saturday, December 1, 2018

Hard Rain

Words start in a trickle
a gentle drizzle
tickling my senses
teasing me to pick up a pen

After a couple of lines
the wind gusts
and the heavens open
A deluge of hard rain
pummels me with words
too numerous to catch

This rain hurts!
In moments I’m drenched
falling so fast, so hard
the words bruise my mind
bounce off my body leaving welts
then puddle at my feet like spilled ink

Phrases drip from my hair
run into my eyes making vision difficult
then streak down my face and neck
I’m soaked to the skin
drops coursing down my arms
to fall from fingertip to pen
onto a page too wet to hold ink

I fight to save the words
being washed away
 “Me! Me!” they yell
demanding to be written
But I’m drowning
I can’t write fast enough

Suddenly it stops
the overcast opens to blue
and the sun peeks through
The words dry on my arms,
ink on the page becomes readable
I begin moving the pieces around
assembling the jigsaw puzzle
of a poem.

Monday, November 26, 2018

Storm Surge

Once more a poem about writing poetry surged through. I wrote it last night after meditating, then "fixed" it up this morning. Enjoy!

In a half dream
I calmly watch the tide pull back
totally oblivious to what’s about to happen
the quiet deceiving before all hell breaks loose

Mesmerized, I watch it build. It’s huge!
and realize there’s no time to run
with frightening speed
it descends in a deafening rumble
devouring everything in its path

It smashes into me
sweeps me high off my feet
spins me around
then slams me to the ground
its force rolling me
over and over and over

I try to grab onto words
but the surge steals my breath

I try to grab onto explanation
but the ferocity leaves me mindless

I write furiously
but the raging torrents rip away the words
before I can get them all on the page

I try to make sense of it all
but the turbulent forces tumble me along
at speeds too outrageous to describe
leaving no room for cohesive thought

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stops.
I collapse into the wet, slimy mud
stunned, bruised, exhausted
numb and in shock
I watch the water recede, disappear

I breathe in … breathe out
I’m alive!

I begin moving aching limbs
shifting through the debris
of words I wrote down
trying to find what I missed;
searching for the ending

But there’s nothing else here.
After all that intensity
I expected more --
There is no more

Surprised, I realize
the ending already happened
just not the way I expected
what started with such violence
ended quickly, softly.

It’s done.

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Downpour or On the Edge of Translation

It rains down
fills my soul
from head to toes
sometimes a heavy downpour
or thunderstorm

Its words with mine
stir my inner beingness
mixing in gut, heart, mind
until clouds of emotions
swirl and dance in partnership

It all bubbles up
threatens to burst my seams
I try to capture
thoughts and contemplations
in language I know

And the words
explode out of me
fall from pen
or onto computer keyboard
faster than I can write

At times
I’m only on the edge
of a translation
I can’t quite grasp
the correct words

Then suddenly
it all ceases
the downpour stops
words cut off
in midsentence or thought

Wait, wait!
I didn’t get it all!

I still haven’t come up with a description of how/what the inflow is really like. Sometimes there are real words I understand, and other times it’s a kind of feeling of what is being channeled; emotion, but not emotion. --SW

Thursday, October 25, 2018

Flash Flood

The gates open
words gush down
consuming me
tossing me along a stream
of water, stones, and sand

Words fill my mind

at an alarming rate
mix with emotions
bubbling from
my own inner well

I snatch and grab
try to anchor myself
on the words
try to form them
into cohesive thoughts
sentences and paragraphs

There’s initial success
as the page is filled
with interesting introspection
but the flow too turbulent
I’m soon overpowered
the focus becomes
a jumble of tossed stoned
and I lose the thread
of logic

I’m drowning
unable to control
the flow, the writing
then the torrent rushes on
through me, past me
leaving me exhausted
lying in mud
among the scattered stones.

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

A Calm Moment

In silence
a subtle move
breath becomes
nothing more than
another movement

In … out …
expand … contract …
the body reacts
the body responds
life flows through
every vein
in … out …
over and over

Heart and mind
follow the breath
in … out …
until it becomes

Considering an Overcast Day

Shadows within
a reflection of cloudy skies above
I like this gray

It’s reminiscent
of how I feel
quiet, soft, peaceful

It’s OK that every day
doesn’t have
to be sunny

My mind relaxes
under the gray-colored cloak
pulled in, feeling safe

Maybe that’s why
I like foggy mornings
it matches my soul.

(rewritten from 2009)

Monday, October 22, 2018

A Reason for Fear?

I approach the box
with trepidation
fear of what
might be found

I open the door quickly

Tiny bodies jump
flee the light
I leap back

Spiders spill out
creeping and crawling
by the hundreds it seems

I grab the mail
slam the door
and run
for the house
waiting for something
to slip out
from between envelopes
and scurry up my arm.

When I was a kid, we were playing hide ‘n’ seek and others thought it would be funny to stuff me in the mailbox, so IT wouldn’t find me. They ran off and forgot about me. IT didn’t find me, but spiders did! To this day I still have nightmares of creepy-crawlies getting on me.

In Silence My Heart Weeps

My heart couldn't recall
yesterday’s yearnings,
but the old hurts
laid claim
on unshed tears

In silence
my heart weeps

Walls built
a thousand years ago
cannot be torn down
by wishes alone

In silence
my heart weeps

I keep locked
the terror
that threatens
my soul

My heart
weeping in silence

Not such a big deal
by mind reasons
but still,
I wrap invisible cords
around my fragility
and let my emotions
keep others at bay

My heart weeping
in silence

I keep these feelings
hope no one
I can only dream
and alone,
I dance in joy
glad I don’t have to
put on an act.

In silence
the tears dry.

(rewritten from May 2009)

Sunday, October 7, 2018

Illogic Reigns

Illogic Reigns

In the din
of a crowded room
illogic reigns
pushing me
to the middle
of the arena
An isolated gladiator

I slip
between the web
to the outskirts
Now outside
looking in
not belonging,
not fitting in.

I’m overwhelmed
with the need
to escape
and disappear
No one notices
No one cares.

I’m trying to describe what happens to me sometimes when I’m in a crowd. It is illogical. I know I belong. I know I can fit in. I just have to talk to people. But sometimes – I don’t even know what to call it, just that it is overwhelming – I just have to get out of there, to escape.

--Sasha Wolfe

Friday, September 14, 2018

Sometimes Life is Like This

I’m alone – from choice
but sometimes
sadness and grief
overwhelm me

Sometimes it seems
for every one thing
that goes right
too many more go wrong

Sometimes I get so tired
of fighting to stay upbeat
Sometimes the effort
is more than I can bear

Well-meaning words
echo through the canyons
of my mind
suck out my willpower

Harsh words said,
“… because we love you,
worry about you”
are not supportive

Maybe harsh criticism
works for some
ignites their fire
forces them to change

But harsh words to me
do not feel of love
but of finding fault
being talked down to

That if I’m not like them
I’m not perfect
or good enough
or deserving enough

Some days
I don’t feel strong
I don’t want to fight
my energy flatlines

My fire diminishes
I want to crawl
into a hole
and never come out

Sometimes I’m just
too fragile.
I am deflated.

It’s Hard Work to Stay Positive

At the time
I couldn’t understand
why my mother
gave up

I couldn’t understand
why, with so much
life has to offer
she stopped caring

I swore
I would never
be like her!

She’d say,
“Just wait,”
and her entire demeanor

“Just wait
until you’re this age
then you’ll

I swore
I would never
be like her

The years and the tears
wear me down,
“Yeah, Mum,
I understand now.”

Sometimes I feel
I am becoming
just like her.

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Running out of Time

I was thinking how lately I can't seem to find the time to write or paint. I continue to take daily photos, but I can't find the time to post/share them.

But the choices are mine to make during the day. I'm the one choosing to garden or writing emails over painting or working on my book-writing. I'm the one making busy work that doesn't fill my soul.

It's funny, but the older I get the longer it takes to get things done. Where I used to check off many items on my to-do list, now I'm happy if I can get to three. Sadly, those three or four seldom have anything to do with my books or painting. 

Such is life.

Running out of Time

My ship’s body
lies broken
on the ocean floor

Debris, the bits of me
still holding to life
floats upriver on the tide
into a silent swamp
sticks to reeds
and debris from others
also just barely hanging on

Slow decay
stagnant water
leaches the life-source
from my soul
there’s no energy left

My once-vibrant ship
now has only few bubbles
rising from its broken hull
sea life already takes hold

What went wrong?
Why couldn’t I fulfill my dreams?

The papers of my stories
photographs of the many things
that caught my eye
the paintings and drawings
that made me feel alive
dissolve in salt water

I drown in my own tears.

--Sasha Wolfe

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Where Does the Joy Go

Where does the joy go
when life lays me out flat
when every little thing is an obstacle
when things just seem to go wrong?

Where does the joy go
when getting up gets harder
when life gets lonelier
when I reach out and get slapped down?

Where does the joy go
when the choices I make turn into mistakes
when decisions are mine alone to make
and I can’t think straight?

Where does the joy go
when there’s no one to share
no one to lean on
and everything comes back to haunt me?

I sink into the pits of despair
allow myself to feel the pain
but then something fans the flame
and the fires of creativity roar again

I am not so all alone,
Joy returns!

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Fire Bomb

My soul opens and the fires pour in
a huge downdraft rushes 
through my inner core
igniting the embers of my creativity

I roar in combustion
my mind explodes in a burst of flames
which quickly scorches fingertips
and forces me to hurry

This fire bomb of words and feelings
too strong, too powerful 
comes from every direction
pounds me to the ground

I’m suffocating in a fury of words
I can’t write fast enough!
I can’t breathe!

Because, of course, I’ll die
if I can’t get the words down
if I forget anything
if I misinterpret the message

But I don’t die and 
suddenly it’s over
the fires go out
leaving me drained and exhausted

I can breathe again 
and in a few seconds of rest
I relish the emptiness
As my scorched soul quickly heals

I inhale … exhale …
my mind kicks in again
I pick myself up, 
sort through the debris

The editing begins
words forming an article or a poem 
What amazing accomplishment!

Once more, I am filled with a marvelous joy!

Embers in My Soul

My gut churns 
with longing
Embers deep in my soul
barely glow
Breezes of thought
stir the coals
But not enough to fan 
the fires of creativity

A word, a thought, a sight
a spark glimmers
Emotions jumble
clamber to be free
My soul falls on paper
in words, in color
Sometimes painstakingly slow
other times a rushing flood

A poem or painting
an intense brilliance of joy
Cries to be seen, shared 
its light … my light …
casting a balance 
with the shadows of life
Not just for me
but for all

Initial burst over
my mind quiets
Flames recede
to smoldering embers
while my soul
rests in joy and emptiness
until the next flare up
the next creative flash

Sunday, January 21, 2018


Thoughts, ideas
excitingly rush through me
like a herd of stampeding cattle

Thundering hooves
shake the ground
freeze me on the sidelines

All I can do is stare
as words and impressions
rush by in speeds
too fast, too strong
too dangerous 
to grasp

With great courage
my mind reaches into the melee
to grab bits and pieces

Pen to paper
I slowly put together fragments
place words on a page

Form them into a cohesive plan
the latest, greatest idea
gathers momentum … but
too late, too old
too busy
to make happen.

-- Sasha Wolfe