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Sara Jama Poem
Within the creeping shadows,
do you think you can find me?
Before chaos implodes my soul ~
I’m lost amongst childhood
memories, pounded to ash and dust,
clouding my sight,
as silence stifles my screams.
Whilst rivulets of water collect
around cracked soles,
cold liquid rushes
with each word left unsaid,
rising as foreboding
talons scrape against the ballast
stones of despair.
Spiritual hunger gnaws at my insides,
pain filling a closing throat.
O Helios Flare,
burning the crystalline odyssey,
sailing through sinister sapphires ~
I let my muse
spill cues of clemency,
allowing the salt of stillness
to kiss the bronze bones
beneath my quivering skin.
As I taste the f e a r s ,
the trembling turmeric
of the sun I once loved ~
soaked in
t e a r s of the dragon,
for you and for me.
Yet will the green-eyed gales
ever know, ever feel,
the truth I have traced?
The caged nightmare
that bound my gossamer,
leaf-like wings,
taming me to a gruesome game
of bleeding blame and bruises,
as though I were fated
by the blaze of kismet ~
to be the chained dreamer,
drowning in darkness,
choking on unspoken sorrow,
suffocating on splitting stars,
oblivious to the opalescent
shimmers of moonlight
singing within these vain veins…
So tonight, in muted midnight,
I write ~ and I weave ~
swaying to sulfur-laced,
gustless breezes,
all whilst the choir of dead dreams
serenades abounded hopes,
departed in fractured equilibrium.
No longer able to stay
afloat amongst raging riptides
of repressed trauma, I plummet
into the seas of tranquility,
hoping to emerge
b a p t i z e d by the
empathetic estuaries
flowing through heavens...
Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025
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Sara Jama Poem
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
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Sara Jama Poem
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
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Sara Jama Poem
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
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Sara Jama Poem
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
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Sara Jama Poem
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
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Sara Jama Poem
A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—
bloated and weathered,
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.
Legends of wraiths wander,
replicating whispers of infected insanity.
Laughter lingers in suspect echoes,
Rippling from pasts reborn in presents: futures to be later replaced by the past.
The smell of burnt sugar crackles with the purr of buttered kerneled corn: invading the nostrils with senses whose stimuli feign belief.
A faint humming of Entry of the Gladiators creeps in loudening crescendos, adding to the cacophony deigning dormancy in the field
Fragmented timelines intersecting by the call of the Barker
Stained cotton candy melts, reconstitutes, melts once more
Saturating replicating stands with insidiously sticky omens
Ghastly sickeningly sweet mori mementos
Resurrecting the dead from preternatural slumber.
Within fractured milliseconds, the cycle of the tormented deceased rise
From the ashes of unburnt airwaves,
Rippling through screaming minutes yet frozen in the midst.
A varicosed bearded woman floats aloft grassy overgrowth
Reanimated tigers lurk and phantasmal elephants howl,
Rings round the air in gaseous hush, like cigars puffed by moustachioed men of game,
Insufflating smoke with striped suits in candied reds and white.
The air rises to the resurrected show,
Cries confused for laughter tickle cochlea of the living.
Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2025
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Sara Jama Poem
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
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Sara Jama Poem
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 *****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
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Sara Jama Poem
The loneliness of night cloaks a desolate sky.
Drizzling rain clings to devitalized windowpanes.
Staring, longing for an escape from reality.
Ruminating thoughts keep sleep at bay.
The flicker of the television hums in the other room.
Dragging myself, I sink into the doldrums of a discarded sofa.
Turning up the volume, the weatherman describes a tempest coming from the northeast.
Burnt out, silhouettes of notions run rampant.
Even the soft glow of the TV has become too much.
The wind is starting to howl now.
I can feel it whip around the boards of this old house,
Like ancient bones rattling through the ages.
The porch blinds suddenly, violently thrash.
Getting up, I close them before slipping into my pajamas.
Preparing for something just out of reach,
Always a centimeter from my grasp.
I lay in a desperate bed.
Ever-expanding darkness shrouds me.
Yet no relief arrives.
Swollen eyes no longer produce tears.
Vocal cords no longer produce sound.
Just silent screams going unheard into the mattress,
As sanity finally slips through the threads of unyielding fabric.
Copyright © Sara Jama | Year Posted 2026
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