Sometimes I think
Sometimes I think too much.
Some days
Some days I need
Some days I need your touch.
One day
One day I’ll know
One day I’ll know I’m just
Nothing to you
Nothing to you but dust.
I’m tossed
I’m tossed aside
I’m tossed aside by you
I know
I know this much
I know this much is true
This heart
This heart of mine
This heart of mine does break.
It’s gone
It’s gone no more
It’s gone, no more to take.


Z is for ZaniLa

Z is for ZaniLa

The ZaniLa Rhyme is a form created by Laura Lamarca. It has 4 lines in each stanza.
The rhyme scheme ABCB; the syllable count is 9/7/9/9.
Line 3 contains an internal rhyme and is repeated but switch alternately with each stanza.
It has a minimum of 3 stanzas. 

Steel Like You

I see the steel bars on the window
and there are locks on the door
I hold the key and I can be free
but do I want to give any more?

What is left unsaid, others will claim
and what I can’t give, you steal
I can be free and I hold the key
but is it too late for us to heal?

A generous heart that is tender
bound in a soul that is true
I hold the key and I can be free
but I never want to be like you.

V is for Villanelle

A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem. The rhyming scheme is aba aba aba aba aba abaa.

The first and the third lines in the first stanza repeat throughout the poem. Both lines appear in the last two lines.
(Source: Shadow Poetry

**After writing this, I decided I don’t like this style poem. Maybe it’s that I’m not doing it right, but it’s very cumbersome to me**

We All Fall Down

We all fall down, our souls to bare
We sang of ashes and hit the ground
Take my hand; I’ll meet you there

A child’s game we used to share
But ashes fall and they make no sound
We all fall down, our souls to bare

What must I do to show I care?
For in the ashes I, too, have drowned
Take my hand; I’ll meet you there

We played with songs of ladies fair
Along with ashes, bridges are bound
We all fall down, our souls to bare

When you need to come up for air
From ashes and rubble all around
Take my hand; I’ll meet you there

You look for peace upon your lair
Among these ashes I will be found
We all fall down, our souls to bare
Take my hand; I’ll meet you there


Ring around the rosie
a pocket full of posie
ashes, ashes
we all fall down.


London Bridge is falling down
falling down
falling down
London Bridge is falling down
My fair lady

Q is for Quatorzain

Q is for Quatorzain
A quatorzain is poetry of 14 lines.


Beyond Oak Creek

Beside Juniper-lined trails
Away from the suffocating crowd
At each bend nature prevails
Under the cover of towers proud

Between arms of Emory Oak
Through the shade of Ponderosa Pine
Along the way red rock spoke
Of sentries posted in their design

Toward mesas rising high
Beneath guarded towering faces
With permission, I pass by
And into sunlit sandstone places

Thankful to be given the chance,
I sit and watch the shadows dance.



O is for Obsidian

Refined in fire before your birth
In a molten tempest below the earth
A powerful force of glowing red
From an explosive rage you made your bed
Your living colors changed into black
Exposed your weakness in conchoidal crack
But in that weakness, came edges honed
With opaque fractures that cut to the bone
Mystery in darkness deep inside
Brings light to truth, with nowhere to hide

Yep, I just wrote a poem about a rock. I am officially a nerd.

L is for Lake


When I was ten, my family took a road trip to Canada. On our way home, we stopped in Spokane, Washington, to see my grandmother and my dad’s siblings. My Uncle Norm and my grandma took us to Brown’s Lake in the Colville National Forest. I fell in love with the trees, the mountains, and the wildness of it. Most amazing to me was that we could actually swim in this lake!

That may not seem so special to a lot of people, but in Southern California, where I was born and raised, people don’t normally swim in lakes. Lakes are for fishing. Pools and beaches are for swimming. I used to love swimming and still do, so I was very excited about swimming in an actual lake!

When we got there, though, I got a little creeped out by the idea. There were slimy-looking rocks where sand should have been, there were strange little plants growing from the floor of the lake instead of floating gobs of seaweed, and there were no crashing, rolling waves. Mostly, I didn’t like the idea of putting my feet on the slimy rocks. They didn’t make water shoes back then.

Fortunately for me, the pull of the water was too strong and before long, I got over my fear of the dark, unknown lake water. I liked swimming in the lake. No salt to burn my eyes and no chlorine to turn my blonde hair green.

The year following my introduction to lake swimming, my brother and I spent the summer in Spokane. We went camping at Brown’s Lake quite a few times. Almost every time we went we were the only campers there. It was awesome!

Anyway, inspired by the letter “L” and my great memories of my favorite lake, I wrote this poem.

Brown’s Lake

Standing, staring from the shore
in a place I’ve never been before,
wondering how it would be
to let myself go, to be so free
to step in off solid ground
and break the shackles that keep me bound.

Seemingly clear at first glance
like diamonds sparkling as they dance.
Tips of waves play with the breeze
rising, falling, and chasing they tease.
Dragonflies join in the fun–
iridescent needles in the sun.

Here am I, unsure and small,
Longing to be a part of it all.
She’s the brave one,” so they say.
Being alone will make you that way.
Fearful of what lies below
I break the surface and in I go.

Don’t fear I hear deep inside
There’s no current here, there is no tide.
Looking down, I see my feet
Where shallow water and rocks do meet.
Some stones shift and some hold fast
So much like people– present and past.

Step by step, I see them fade
I turn back, see the progress I’ve made.
Giving in to its embrace
and gentle caresses on my face.
In this way the lake holds me
Here in its grip is where I am free.


E is for Exploration



Day Five of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge

E is for Exploration

take my hand, come with me
we will go where the land
surrenders to the sea.
there we’ll find treasures lost–
iridescent trinkets
worn with time, turned and tossed

hold my hand, and we’ll go
where the sky reaches down
to the pines as they grow.
we’ll find a quiet place,
watch meadow flowers dance
in all their breeze-blown grace

take me to rocks of red–
layers of earth whisper
stories of those long dead.
we will seek, we will find
ancient paths made of stone
and journey where they wind

take my hand, hold on tight
we can be together
as the day turns to night.
the stars will understand
what i see in your eyes
if you just take my hand.

© Sara Jones 2014

B is for Beauty


Day Two of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge


B is for Beauty
Beauty is the way the breeze blows through the brush on the hillside
Beauty is the blurred beating of a hummingbird’s wings
There is beauty hiding the sharp thorns of the burgeoning bougainvillea

Beauty is the way the golden Brittle Bush carpets the desert floor
Beauty is the beckoning branches of an old live oak tree
There is beauty waiting to escape the billowing clouds of the brewing storm

Beauty is the way the breaking waves batter the lonely shore
Beauty is the beginning of a new day blanketing the sky in blue
There is beauty reaching out from the broken rim of the red rock bluff

In such beauty, I find where I belong