Get Your Premium Membership

Best Poems Written by Sara Jama

Below are the all-time best Sara Jama poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Sara Jama Poems

123
Details | Sara Jama Poem

The Persistence of Memory Painting by Salvador Dali - Collaboration with Dilly Dally

Caustic memories dissolve on my tongue
Lingering tastes of battery acid and nicotine  
Cause me to choke on putrid saliva.  
Staring at melting walls, clocks tick in unison.  

Distorted birdsong hums outside of jagged windows 
Under the warped sun, an unrepentant landscape blurs.  
Freshly budding peonies liquefy;  
Veils thin, evaporating the delusion of reality.  

Why must I mould to the edges at your bidding,  
Contort to the point of my own dysfunction?  
For such fleeting worship, this devastation lingers -
Devours and disconnects my inner workings.  

I lie highlighted in shadow, a beacon of quiet distress;
A dislodged scapula desperate to be labelled angelic.  
Grounded, wingless, and forever out of time -
Wearing the last face you cared for as a comforter.  

Neon venom warming twisted arteries, 
Sinister patches stitched upon a breaking back.  
A narcissist's crown digging into my head  
Like rusted nails plunged into worm-infested wood—  
Permanent disconnection, frayed cerebral cortex.  

Blurred vision obscures insidious figures hiding in hushed corners,
Whispering in Babylonian tongue. Hallucinatory illusions haunt  
What was a once-pristine sanctuary,  
Now morphing into a surrealistic asylum. 

Revelation exists above shadow in temporal machination,
I'm consciousness not yet swept up with sand;
Closed eyes cleanse my corneas - I rest in a balm of clarity.
Your power superficial, a cankerous cataract peeled clean off.

It is you who is bereft, washed up with the shell you created.
All the walls of your empty room fallen flat,
As I unfurl in the mirror beyond the shoreline,
I realise - it was never me you couldn't stomach.

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025



Details | Sara Jama Poem

No Stranger To Love

The cold night air wraps around my shoulders like a moth-eaten shawl.  
A rasping rain pelts the bitter sidewalk below.  
Visions of what once was flash in and out of the headlights passing by.  
How did it all go so wrong, as lovers become nothing more than mere strangers?  
Your heart has grown so hardened to my pleading touch.  
Ghosts we have become, passing through each other in our home that has slowly become our tomb.  
Words have become a foreign language to each other's ears.  
How did this divide go from small fractures to seismic shifts?  
We loved each other so, now we lay next to each other like phantoms.  
How do we bring back the light within our souls,  
Before we slip through the cracks of this cold, lonely cityscape?  
Shivers run up my spine as it's getting close to 2 a.m. now.  
I stick my hands in my weeping pockets and jingle my freezing keys,  
Look at the blank screen of my phone, waiting for you to call—but you never do anymore.  
I guess it's time to start walking home; you'll be long in bed.  
I try to tell myself we can find our love again, I just know it, if we try hard enough.  
Walk up to the rain-soaked building, enter with silent tears in my eyes.  
Put down my keys, take off my coat, and crawl into bed,  
Hoping that when the first rays of sun peek through the blinds of the windows,  
The space between us will slowly evaporate like dewdrops on a flower petal.

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2024

Details | Sara Jama Poem

Insignificant Monster No More

Drained of opaque innocence
Perfected by your toxicity,
I was laid bare beneath the narcissistic sun,
Searing deep within dehydrated pupils,
Stripping my soul of all humanity,
until your sinister tongue was all I could hear.

Your empty promises clothed these bones;
running was no longer an option,
as hiding became nearly impossible within your shadows.

Voices, eating through my cerebral cortex,
tainted even the demons that resided within my mind.

Minuscule reminders of my life before became particles of dust,
floating through suffocating air,
choking the little oxygen you let me breathe,
until the poison became too much to take.

Falling to my knees, vomiting your vile lies,
my life flashed like motion pictures before my eyes.

A choice was given:
either purge—rip the cursed, stinging nettle from my veins,
or die under your cruelty.

I will not rot for an insignificant monster;
a cleansing is long overdue.

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025

Details | Sara Jama Poem

Poetry and I Are On a First Name Basis

poetry
           knows my 
                       name 
                               haunting 
      me 
             throughout 
                         the 
            silence of the night
 culling me 
         into a false sense of 
                                        warmth 
                                                   and security
          here
                 take this       
                          poisoned quill 
                     it whispers
fill the ink bottle 
                     with your 
                                   tears 
                    and 
                             blood
scribble 
              all that pain 
                          upon this leathered parchment          

                 every 
                         l
                          e
                           t
                            t
                             e
                              r 
                                reverberating 
     from my frayed 
                           n
                             e
                               r
                                v
                                 e
                                   s
bloodshot eyes 
                         from 
                                 countless 
            sleepless days
With each 
          e
            x
              h
                a
                  l
                   a
                     t
                      i
                       o
                         n
                             I can feel 
                                          the life slowly     
                                       begin
                    to leave my 
                                    weary body
r
   e
     c
       o
         r
           d 
             the past traumas 
      one last time
                           write
                                  erase
                                           rewrite
                                                      until
 i get every 
                 meticulous 
           detail right
don’t want to suffer these
                      injustices for an 
                        e
                          t
                           e
                             r
                              n
                                i
                                 t
                                  y
purge 
         the bitter acid 
    from the pit of my 
                        stomach
cleanse 
             the narcissistic abuse 
         from my waking 
                                 nightmares
feverishly fill 
                    saline soaked 
           book after book
until the final 
                   microscopic 
                                     b
                                      r
                                      e
                                       a
                                        t
                                        h
                                leaves this shaking body
place the quill
                      between ground down teeth
         bite down and 
   swallow the poison
concluding 
               the closing chapter 
     of this misguided
 maddening 
            e
             x
              i
              s
               t
                e
                 n
                  c
                    e

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2023

Details | Sara Jama Poem

Fading Photographs

Fading photographs are strewn across alabaster tabletops,  
drenched in moonlight streaming through rustling curtains.  
Snow owls call out to each other through the whistling wind,  
as flakes of snow dust 
frostbit grass outside crystallized windows.  
A roaring fireplace crackles in the corner,  
and I sit back upon an oaken rocking chair,  
tracing my fingertips over delicate memories,  
transported back to harmonious
 days and carefree nights.  

Your silhouette appears, drenched 
in glorious sunlight.  
Summer emerges like 
a breath of fresh air,  
as luscious ivy crawls up 
wrought iron fences,  
and onyx roses bloom within the gaps.  
Your golden voice calls out to me.  
A single teardrop slides down
 the warmth of my cheek.  
It’s been so many years since 
I heard that angelic sound,  
smelled the aromatic vanilla 
permeating from your silken skin,  
and fell into your tender embrace.  
My blood swelters under your touch.  
I whisper, “I’ve been so lost without you.”  
“Can I not stay here with you like this forever?”  
You whisper back,
One day, my love, for it’s not your time yet.”  

And within the blink of an eye, 
an icy chill races up my spine,  
snapping me back to harsh reality,  
to a world so frigid without you—  
forever tracing memories until
I can finally take my final breath.

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2024



Details | Sara Jama Poem

Dance with Delusions

Dancing with delusions, sparks of hellfire
Course through my lugubrious quill pen.
Distorted words igniting fear,
Anxiety fills crevices,
Encircling, silencing,
Asphyxiating.
Walls closing in,
Compressing.
Hope fades,
Doom.
Dread
Runs cold.
Veins poisoned,
Sanity slips
Unmercifully.
The angels are mimicked.
Light dimming, darkness descends
As demons mingle with the dead.
Apocalyptic skies crack open
To wash away all that you held sacred.

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025

Details | Sara Jama Poem

Picking At Scabs

A musky, burnt haze sears slowly into my nostrils.  
The twilight hour pulses steadily, bathing stark walls in an eerie gloom.  
Too awake to drift to sleep, yet too tired to drag my bones off this sinking mattress.  
Thoughts cyclone like a tsunami within a withdrawn mind,  
picking at scabs; the half-life of my darkness pools in red droplets.  
Licking the wounds, the taste of metallic and melancholy blends.  
Loneliness wraps its arms around my dejected shoulders like a winding sheet.  
A howling wind rattles the paper-thin glass making up my windows,  
as I ponder how I became the living dead.  
Traumas poisoned my sanity,  
slowly paranoia replaced reason,  
delusions became my nightly bedfellow,  
whispering sweet unpleasantries into tainted ears,  
leaving hallucinatory trinkets in my repeating nightmares.  
The world is shrinking, withering,  
yet as I am becoming paralyzed by fear, I am unequipped to stop it.  
Like a freight train derailed,  
bellowing at full speed towards the inevitable,  
I too am racing at the speed of light towards oblivion.

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025

Details | Sara Jama Poem

Serenity Lays Amongst Stars

c r e s t f a l l e n 
                   lapis lazuli 
                                   w
                                    a
                                     v
                                      e
                                       s 
                                          lap 
       against pearlized 
                                  ivory shores  
           strands of forest-green 
                         s e a w e e d 
                 dot 
                      the beachside  
as an i r i d e s c e n t 
                                  sunset 
                                             d
                                               i
                                                p
                                                 s 
   over the 
              shrinking horizon 
s p r i n k l i n g 
                       its dwindling rays 
        over the dunes
fragrances of beach rose 
                           dance playfully in the 
                  b r e e z e
saline-infused mist
                              tantalizes the 
                          tongue 
whilst s i l k e n sand 
                       slumbers beneath 
      my feet 
                       embers ignite 
like lightning bugs 
               from a roaring bonfire  
the majestic call of 
                        gulls s a i l s 
           amongst the flames  
nature's eloquent beauty 
                       envelops a drained h e a r t 
breathing new life 
                           into an ancient soul
an oasis under 
                  kaleidoscopic stellar evolution



Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025

Details | Sara Jama Poem

Sea Of Roses

The ashes of your ghost still roam within a sea of roses.
Breathing you in, I try to reach through the veils,
yet to no avail.
The bitter emptiness is all I can feel.

The Fates keep taunting, teasing~
in the dead of night, your voice still lingers,
preventing slumber from taking hold.
The ticking of clocks infects my broken psyche,
hallucinations tangle me within what used to be our sheets.

Breathing in your scent, exhaling demons~
without you, the devil whispers.
Temptation takes hold,
fire flows through transforming veins.
Lilith’s fury poisons any humanity that was left.

Levitating from the bed, rebirth is at hand.
Cutting into my chest,
the heart becomes the heartless.
Electricity pulses beneath rippling flesh,
destruction now at my fingertips.

Grief begets hate.
Now watch as the world burns,
as I become my own martyr.

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025

Details | Sara Jama Poem

Playing God


An eerie wind blows through the decaying bushes on the outskirts,  
while a rusted door sways on its broken hinges.  
The smell of ozone lingers from thunder cracking in the distance,  
as heavy rain unleashes upon the abandoned prairie.  

A broken soul wanders the expanse,  
searching for any solace in this apocalyptic world.  
Her hair has gone white from loneliness,  
slightly matted around desolate eyes—  
long ago dulled when civilization died out,  
decaying her spirit.  

Why she was still left behind in this wasteland,  
she does not know.  
For that is the answer she so desperately seeks.  

Her delicate hands, once gentle,  
have been hardened by the harsh elements of time.  
She used to stand tall among her peers—  
statuesque like an Amazonian warrior.  
Now, she stoops over,  
forever looking down at the ground  
to shield herself from the harsh light of day.  

The sun has become a ball of fire,  
searing into her flesh.  
She doesn't know if it's getting closer to Earth,  
or if it's the neverending exposure  
making her feel as though she's being cooked alive.  
The only relief comes when the rains fall.  

A fleeting mercy.  
A wash of life.  
She must use them wisely,  
for they are her only source of water—  
her only source of hope.  

Dusk settles over the horizon  
as Maria returns to the dilapidated farmhouse  
she has made her transitory home.  
The smell of death hangs in the air;    
Brushing aside garbage  
piled upon the fading brown leather couch,  
Maria rests her weary body for the evening.  

Closing her burning eyes,  
she tries to remember how she got here—  
how humanity vanished  
from what was once a lush world.  
The silence plays tricks  
on her fracturing mind.  
Echoes of ghosts  
reverberate through the howling wind.  

Long-lost memories begin to flood back.  
She was happy once.  

Like old movies in her mind,  
she remembers running among daisies with friends—  
the fresh smell of cut grass  
suddenly filling her nose.  
A warmth blossoms in her frozen heart.  

Opening her eyes,  
she sees herself standing in that field.  
Reaching down,  
she picks up butter-colored flowers  
with now-silken hands.  

She knows this can't be real,  
yet she prays to remain in this memory forever.  
As she turns her head,  
she sees a creek babbling nearby.  
She walks to wash her face,  
but suddenly freezes.  

A rattling sound.  
Flames in the distance.  
The once crystal sapphire sky  
turns ashen grey.  
The ground rumbles beneath her feet  
as screams pierce the once peaceful air.  

Mushroom clouds blitz the atmosphere.  
Atomic destruction at a molecular level.  
Her amnesic mind awakens.  

The scent of searing flesh  
burns every hair in her nostrils.  
The taste of absolute fear  
courses through pulsating taste buds.  

White-hot heat licks at Maria's delicate skin  
as she runs into the bleakness.  
Her lungs heave,  
filling with thickening smoke.  
Her legs tremble, turning to jelly.  
She feels collapse is near  
as she flees from impending doom.  

Thunder roars in the distance,  
snapping Maria back to the harsh present.  

Humanity should have stepped in  
before nuclear annihilation became the final resort.  

Scientists played god—  
splicing DNA of the extinct.  
At first, it was harmless:  
Dodo birds, Woolly Mammoths.  
But greed crept in.  
The rich paid for Saber-tooth pets.  
Dinosaurs became attractions.  
Nothing was off-limits.  

Until it all spiraled out of control.  

Earth’s Homo sapiens were overrun.  
Now only the “lucky” few remain—  
roaming,  
always on the run,  
until nature restores  
what was lost.

Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025

123

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry