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Sarah Lange Poem
"U.S Attacked: Hijacked Jets Destroy Twin Towers And Hit Pentagon In Day Of Terror," The New York Times
even if it works like clockwork, it can still break.
shattered worlds petrified passerby,
People as hungry as bears, for explanations.
What does this mean?
What is next?
Why us?
"Wall Street Crash!" The London Herald
the world plunged out of its tranquil decade
into a worldwide depression.
affluent people became the precariat
The working class fell deeper into the umbrae
Poverty was the new normal.
"Martin King Shot To Death: Gunned Down In Memphis," Daily News
An icon in civil rights, Baptist minister, incredible father
not accepting the tragedy was many forms of mourning
The mystery of "Will equality ever exist?" still stood
he still had a dream.
all hope isn't lost if carried on through ideology.
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2020
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Sarah Lange Poem
I will make a list of my
New Year resolutions.
I will stop doodling on my homework.
But don't adults always tell you to
Be creative and
Doodling is creative.
Hmm Aha!
I will clean up whatever mess I make!
But making messes is creative right!
Like I said, I cant do that
Because
I can't ruin my creativity!
Maybe I should just
Be creative!
That means doodling on my homework
And not cleaning up the
Messes that I make!
I will have a great year.
1/4/17
And it will definitely
Be creative.
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2017
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Sarah Lange Poem
It is said that in the good ol' wild west
the promptest postal mailing was the Pony Express.
greatest agile riders in the nation
the ten-day journey of mail
what could go awry?
Johnny fry was the leading jockey
Mail deposited in a mochila saddle and
POW!!!
the explosion of a cannon signified the commencement
of the dash against trains.
Galloping onward at a near ninety miles per hour
the mustang relaxed to a halt as
Harry Roff seized the limelight.
And there you have it, cowboys and cowgirls
all the way to Sacramento
mail was delivered.
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2020
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Sarah Lange Poem
Racing far away,
Wild Horses are near me.
I am not afraid.
1-11-17
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2017
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Sarah Lange Poem
A smile on her face and a gleam in her eye - From the poem 'Batter up.' by Eve Roper
I can't deny she doesn't know
what will happen, what shall come later
That one day the free-spirited angel we see will vanish
One day her optimism will fade
as she discovers it isn't worth the light of day
Hard work pays off, well certainly
that's what we are told we have to think.
One isn't always so fortunate to never experience
behind the scenes work.
What you see isn't ever the whole truth
only a bleak analysis, a review
The submerged portion of the ice cap is fogged over
The mind is not the face,
happiness is not the grief and distress
The smile begins to fade
the gleam begins to grow dimmer, and dimmer
Her mind grows more aware
and she sheds her first tear.
her good memories disappear into thin air
her conscience roars as it takes over
her walls of sanity come splintering down,
in an earthquake named understanding.
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2020
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Sarah Lange Poem
the door grates open and I bite my lip so hard it bleeds
she can't see you cry, she can't
my palms sweat against the doorknob
attempting to hide my worried face,
I try to take in air but my throat feels like sandpaper
and all the memories flash before my cloudy eyes
the nostalgia of all those days we sat down, just to talk
connected to plugs and ventilators
my role model, my hero, the one
I could trust for a warm hand on my shoulder
a tear rolls down my cheek
as I say, I love you grandma
I love you so much and I always will
she has no idea who I am,
she can't remember the memories as I can
we thought she had more time,
I knew it wasn't much
a few days at most is enough
enough times to say "love ya" to not build regret.
but sometimes, the best ones you can't do much for
you have to learn to let go, and they will go
they will form a pool of tears at your feet
they will make you blue as the ocean
they will cause you to cry out of guilt
It's cause they love you
as you grow tattered and aged
you need an Angel.
so thanks for going, and soaking my tissues
thanks for the weight of me you carried on your back
for all the good times, and the bad ones,
I say from here to up there
Goodbye Grandma.
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2020
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Sarah Lange Poem
Who knew the depths could seem so shallow
that something as random as a virus could destroy
could end innocent lives and leave millions stuck
in an epidemic that was at first a joke
college kids on spring break
careless people that are selfish enough to think that
seventy-five thousand deaths are nothing.
is the reason we are still in quarantine
well maybe it's nothing to you
but maybe, just maybe, some of those lost lives,
were 5-year-olds grandparents.
they were family to someone out there.
So let's stop fighting against the unstoppable, and instead
com together like we always should've been.
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2020
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Sarah Lange Poem
4/4/20
Impoverished children hunting for household items.
has shifted into
Ordinary people reliving antiquity.
as well as
A vacation destination.
Thames river in London possesses layers
of buried time.
What will be next
on this mudlarking exploit?
A piece of Roman porcelain?
A rare relic?
A charred roof tile from the Great Fire of London?
Time-traveling
the tactility of an object grasped
400 years ago.
Untold experiences, stories, struggles
Embedded in filth
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2020
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Sarah Lange Poem
A fierce inferno
The entice of gunshots
Engulfed by your worst nightmare
Wake up! Wake up!
Submersion of you consciousness
In which we have no valid control.
Hallucinations flash and tear down common reminiscence
Wake up! Wake up!
Parlous or peace
Which will past the test of slumber?
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2020
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Sarah Lange Poem
embedded in foliage and flowers
we see her true elegance shine through
amid these dark and dreary times
there is a light at the end of this dark tunnel
she is fragile, she is elegant, she is everything
everything in this world revolves around her
the blush pink dahlias, baby blue hydrangeas
make up her wildflower crown
all those rainy days, the foggy ones,
was her dancing in the rain
the tip-tap of her peony shoes
are mere thunderbolts and lightning strikes
and when she goes inside to drink pink lemonade
the whole world gets a surprise,
because after the rain,
comes a rainbow
Copyright © Sarah Lange | Year Posted 2020
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