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Best Poems Written by Sarah Rosendahl

Below are the all-time best Sarah Rosendahl poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

Definition Overload

Turn up the radio
jump start the chemicals
What did they say?

Well, you're not an animal
a definition of zero
Attacked by the genes
of a century of shame

Don't make me say it twice!

You're a believer
a pretty little deceiver
the aftermath of purgatory
when the story ends
you'll say it again
say it again!

Don't you tell me

This isn't what you wanted
so I guess you should have
cut it out!

Information overload
all the children screaming “go”!
Go!
All the one's you thought wouldn't know
Go!
Everything you belittled
Go!
Lover's just a title
Go!
Go!
Go!

Well you're not an animal
a definition of zero
attacked by your own reservoir 
of shame

Go!

Pretty little deceiver
When were you a believer
In the countenance 
that you sold?

Go!
All the children screamin'!
Go!
All the lovers cryin'!
Go!
Little deceiver
Go!
Definition overload!

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

The Christmas Ornament

It was just like every other year
Trimming trees with holiday cheer.
Like practiced dancers, we went around
Knowing by heart every carols sound.
There were smells so sweet, but I knew them all
From the cooking of ham to Grandmother’s shawl.
I sang like the others while popcorn was strung
Not really noticing when the door-bell was rung.
We were easily absorbed in familiar footpaths
Following traditions from generations past.
No one had noticed what it had become
Something we did for the sake of having been done.
From a small box another ornament came free
A candy-cane heart was placed on the tree.
It was a strange thing to see him come through the door
With a cheerful smile and something much more.
I don’t understand why he came to me
Huddled shyly behind the tree.
There were words about merriment and spreading the cheer
And; “For you, my dear, I have something here.”
A little box wrapped in a red bow
Catching the lights with an enchanting glow.
I looked to him with pleading eyes
Wondering what was beneath this tinfoil disguise.
I should wait until Christmas, I was sure he would say
But the look in his eyes gave him away.
With a nod of his head I gave a light tug
Feeling it loosen that was tied with love.
I slid the paper away just a crack
Enchanted by the shimmer that greeted me back.
Inside a glass box with a frosted design
A round green ornament sat with a shine.
I marveled and awed at the glittering shade
Of a woman, a lamb, and a bundled up babe.
There was confusion at first at the image it held
Nothing alike our reindeers and bells.
But I smiled at it and the comfort it brought
And the spell of wandering, happy thoughts.
I was too young to know what it meant
But that giving man lent more than he sent. 
The spirit of Christmas wrapped in red love
Of all of my ornaments it still hangs above.
There’s more to Christmas than we often see
But that Christmas Eve insight was given to me.
It isn’t the food or the gifts that we give
But the spirit of love by which we live.
Given to us by a man that once was
Born to be killed because he loved.

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

Consistently Inconsistent

Consistency was never a word for dad.
He was like a painter’s wheel with squares whited out
so nothing ever flowed quite the way it should.

In fact, there was something foreboding
about the concept of color coordination 
and alphabetical order
that he always seemed to avoid.

Things have never been in constant pattern
nor have we ever viewed a schedule in our house.
I can’t even list how many times
we’ve been just barely late.

Someone once said my dad wasn’t a good one
because he doesn’t always lay down rules
or make us stay in on school nights.
“There’s no sense of order! Children need a sense of order.”

But there is something no one understands
and that’s that even though it isn’t perfect
and there are things that could improve,
There’s consistency in where it lacks.
And we wouldn’t change him for the world.

by Sarah Rosendahl

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

Where I'M From

I am from Tupperware-lined pantry shelves
Ziploc bags of cereal
Sunshine and bumble-bee brown 
Kitchen counters

I am from the crackling ice of Norway
the horns of Jericho
the sweltering heat of Phoenix

I'm from a town removed from time
wood and fire heat
Pine trees that stand
like castle towers

I am from misunderstandings
and broken hearts
From people who wanted more
than they could have

I'm from wilted desert plains
and lava skies
from a happy broken home
the lonesome hum of coyote lullabies

I am from roses that grew on brick 
canvases
The corn that sprouted on barren
clay

I'm from simple needs
and lavish desires
Masking-taped moving boxes
and “miles to go before I sleep”

I am from “Gypsy Road”
and “Turn the Page”
another era
an old soul

I'm from wash hung to dry
broken morals
and years of change

Me?
I am from all the things that are a part of me
and I a part of them

Church prayers
Crackling cassette players
Serpentine dirt roads 

Each live alone in my memories
and I beneath their surface dust

I see them behind my closed eyes
and maybe
they see me in their dreams

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

The Tiger In the Dark

Watching from a shadowed place,
You harbor no ill-will.
But when they see your golden eyes,
Like candles in a haunted place,
Watching, waiting, seeing the unseen.
They fear the unknown twitch of legs,
The unwilling tense of jaws.
You are too much like them.
But not enough; no, not enough for them to understand.
You fancy an escape from them,
And the cruelty they possess.
But they know the power behind your eyes,
Beneath your body of cracked alabaster.
And they see your beauty like a thing of fire.
A gorgeous, enticing, danger.
And there's something about it, beauty and alarm,
That turns men into monsters.
The same monsters that they fear.
But not like you, White Tiger.
You're the monster you were born.

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

No Mistake

Well you say you're on a road

you just can't take

Buried by the lights and dreams

they never let you make

 

Somewhere in the dark you hear

a song that makes you break

You're the invention of a heart

that never learned to hate

 

When will you see those stars?

They're falling out of space

Inside you're eyes I see a spirit

that knows you're no mistake

You're no mistake to me

to me

 

And all the lives we thought

we'd like to live

Now are static in your head

and we wonder what's left

to give

forgive

forgive them all

 

When will you see?

Your stars, they're floating into space

And inside your heart beats a song

weaving your soul like lace

 

There's no mistake

You're no mistake

to me

 

Oh, when will you see?

You're no mistake to me

Believe

The stars are all around us now

Can't you see?

Oh, can't you see?

There's no mistake at all

At all

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

Sense

Do you remember how she smelled
like Christmas?

How she smiled
like rain?

Do you think of her, sometimes
when snow and laundry soap
fill your senses?

Or when the wind catches the leaves
and they laugh in your ear
sing you to sleep?

Maybe it's the reason your eyes cloud over
when you feel silk 
against your fingers

Because for a moment 
you're cradled in her arms
Peter Pan and Hook
tugging at your eyelashes

Some bittersweet reminisce 
of quilted portrait frames
salted tears
and candy-cane red lipstick
tuning your dreams

And with simple twinges of regret
feather-like brushes of remorse
you cave
collapse

 Wish you could remember more
than a smell
or a sound
fainter than teardrops

Wish everything didn't remind you
you couldn't.

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

Amity

It tastes like simplicity

like innocent

distant memory


You're helpless

Oh, hopeless

and so full of life

it stings


No, I'm not jealous

or vindictive

just brought down by

fairy-tale romantics


But you never offered

not hesitence

or forever


And I've craved this

like repression

craves wings


So, for memories sake

and absence alone

don't say love

like laughter


Or remember me

like hate

remembers names.

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

Inverse

There's a lyric on your lips

and you're dying to sing

   But you're sewn like a puppet

   bound by a dream

 

Walking on a high wire

on the edge of insane

   So high above the world

   so buried by their pain

 

You're the bullet and the trigger

a product of how you're sold

   Invention-less and plain

   made up in gold

 

The inverse of the operation

for photographic beauty

   Cracked beneath the skin

   where no one else can see

Details | Sarah Rosendahl Poem

Self-Delusioned

Little by little we stand
time and time again we fall
Like characters in a TV show
sacrificing all

Baby, you're the medication in my veins
a photograph in the fire
Am I just dying? Or falling forever?
Someone answer me!

We've already written the history, sweetheart.
Penned it in gasoline and motor oil.

Are you my savior?
Or another terror in the night?

Mona's crying bloody murder
lie like she did to me.
Someone save me!

Salvage something from this empty cup
Have we lived for so long only to lose the war?
Victims of the aftermath
soldiers for hypocrisy

Don't make me call your name
It's killing me so slowly
to hear you walk away.

Like a ghost,
I don't know what's real.

But something, something's gotta give!

Because we've been puppets for forever
tied in our own string.

Faulted beyond forgiveness.
Damned by our self-delusionment.

Can anyone see me?