OctPoWriMo Day 4, The Watcher

Updated: because I evidently can’t count. 😀

Just one day to catch up on OctPoWriMo. Not too bad. Since I gave you a posting about cannibal cobras yesterday, I will continue with alliteration today, but with a poem about a not strange creature.


©Sascha Darlington


The Watcher Continue reading


She Doesn’t Understand You Don’t Believe in Gray– Day 25 #NaPoWriMo #amwriting

She Doesn’t Understand You Don’t Believe in Gray

The relentless search for meaning buried between phrases. She reinterprets your words seeking ones which mean “I love you.”



S. Darlington

#November Notes, Day 18, Song Prompt: Meaning by Gavin Degraw

Living Was Easy–Day 4 #NaPoWriMo #AMWRITING

Living Was Easy

Cusp of spontaneous combustion

sweltering sundown, sunglazed

ovenbaked, heated rivulets

humming Gershwin’s seasonal anthem

like doodles of melody sweating

fly buzzes, cicadas sing discordant

sounding of memories, sepia-toned

swimming, sea surf, screeches

scent of hot dry dirt then petrichor

thunderstorms on ant picnics

barbecue fizzes to smoke.


end 4/4/2017

S. Darlington

Scent and Memory


Psychologists speak

of scent evoked memory

echoing years ahead

like your yearly calls

come Spring,

as the earth erupts,

heady hyacinth



cherry blossoms

like snow,

much sweetness,

not so your words

tangled, slurred,

conveying winter’s frost

in mangled syllables.


end 1/31/2017

S. Darlington




This world feels emptier without you. The echoing years, walking through time, without your raucous laugh, your sarcastic wit, your rich laughing brown eyes. All of forever days without you. When you planned, did you understand the hole you’d leave?


S. Darlington

Epitaph for Ego



Epitaph for Ego


It’s terrific you’re so prolific

but what’s it mean to be so keen

you glean little of the in-between

judging, begrudging, nudging

surface talking, balking from the inconvenient

life’s full of that, be lenient, try genius

the ticket, cricket, put on a tourniquet

staunch the flow, bloods slow, fingers unleash

the pen, “each to their own” say you

and mean butt out. I don’t pout, not about

this. Other things though when you crow,

mow down obstacles disregarding, discarding

me so easily, guarding your heart

hateful words bait the hook of wrath

somewhere there’s the epitaph, autograph—forged.


end 1/7/2017

S. Darlington

Never With No Words


I saw you from afar

Watched you for days

Not a stalker because

I was in the class after yours

You would leave

Pull a baseball cap over

your short curly dark hair

Everything about you made me tingle

Except that you were in a class for theologians

Would be priests

I was stupidly young

or young stupidly

I asked you for coffee

You accepted

You were my first French kiss

You also were the first to rub your sex

Covered over mine when I didn’t know

So many sensations, I was enamored

I thought, dreamed, of so many forevers

You disappeared into never with no words

Leaving me forever, unsure.


end 12/18/2016

S. Darlington

Cesspool Occupied By The Trustless

I didn’t know I stepped into a cesspool

Making a statement to her

Which ended up back to him

Because she couldn’t be trusted

He bitterly annihilated me

Claimed I didn’t offer him a chance

He didn’t offer me one either

I wasn’t fishing for one

In what he considered brilliant prose

He misconfigured me

With violence that men of a certain type do

Both of them write of violence

Of a certain temper they are

I, pacifist, shrug, always wising up in trust.

I wasn’t invested in their story

but they’ve taught me much.


end 12/17/2016

S. Darlington