Trinkets

We belong

Like miscellaneous trinkets tossed

Into an unlabeled jar.

Without a splendid wrapping,

We search out our commonalities and raise them

As a standard to be adored.

Screaming in unison

We demand our due affection

From behind the congealed lace of neglected projections.

For our beauty’s recognition

We chose to betray the odds and ends

Whose identities unveiled our jar’s lack of meaning.

 

Field Of Eternal Sunset

Magic black and silver Cadillacs

Carry us effortlessly out of the city

In singing groups of five and six

Towards the field of endless sunset.

 

Barefooted, we saunter the soft grass,

As cool as the humid air that’s ambling

Through the bushes of lavender, sage, and chamomile

Surrounding the bonfires and fountains in odd corners.

 

The fires are hazy but bright,

And the waters seem to play a melody.

Keeping our eyes open causes the faintest strain

That intoxicates us evenly through every moment.

 

The crowds continue gathering

And soon the fairies are hovering between us,

Fluttering and dancing in silent revelry

To the beat of wings, water, and flame.

 

Wherever you move it stays the same

But the faces and voices endlessly change.

Every action you make costs nothing to take

And each weightless breath draws you in further.

 

There’s a time but no age,

No history and no needs,

It opens up only a sconed

And invites us to escape eternity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Friend I Loved

I sip and think,
Drink, play something simple,
And dream my day dry.

Always talking in invented memories
Between us, our friends, and in secret.

Maybe your face
Has become the placeholder
For someone I never knew but needed.

Maybe I loved
Someone too intensely
Without extending it.

I never picture us having sex anymore,
But I can’t help imagine us being intimate.

We should pretend we just met,
And become friends again
With better experience.

Easing Out A Shout

Lay back in bed
With a sweet scent and sad song,
Breathe in a bit
And spend some time comfortably doing nothing.
Feel your every movement,
Let sensation overwhelm you
And forget about any other
But yourself.
You’re exactly you
Without the stress and complications,
Someone who could judge you
Without judging your disguises.
Would you find it nice
Or simply terrifying, maybe nothing
Even matters to you
When you get down to it,
But if you have the second
To spend focused on your senses
It can open up your person,
Let her shout it out a little.

Sickness & Humanity

When the weight of a thousand deaths
Becomes clearer to you,
It reveals how narrowly we think
Of our life’s disposition.
The film-like determinist bewichment of
Glossy-eyed observance
Upsets and dissipates like snuffed flames
At nature’s assertion.
Travelers return from their dreams
To waking isolation
And open their eyes to an absurd reality
If only for a few moments.

With respect to life and death,
And the consciousnesses thereof,
Look into the mouth of darkness
We’re apart of.
Disease, it must be said,
May be more human than some humans.
That our entirety can be so fragile
Is our consistent condition.
When we remember our narratives
Are ours and ours alone,
The one we share demands consent
To have our comforts overrode.

In the busy days of Death,
What comes will prove our honesty,
And our actions will project
Our real characters into history.
Considering who and what we are,
The choices we’ve elected to embody,
What follows is the shadow of ourselves
And our inherited responsibility.
Impositions of misfortune
Are the most substantial opportunity
To engage with life’s true quality,
And for me to say I love you.

Sensitivity To Warmth

I’m tired of being Imoveably cold

But Warmth doesn’t seem to care for me.

He prefers hearts easier to reach

Over those guarded under lock and key.

Real invigoration is so infrequent

It melts me beyond the use of coherent thought.

It finds me at my most relaxed

And shocks my senses back to full alert.

A warning; If Warmth can reach you,

So can all sorts of volatile expressions.

Good intentions can’t diminish

The fragility of your intimate dimensions.

Born to grave sensitivity

I easily shudder in the light of friendship,

And comfort myself solely

In the snowy luminance of reflection.

Depression Cycles

Silent waves sink perpetually through my chest.

Someone like me shouldn’t think too much alone.

Graves remind us that something can be nothing.

Something about you leads me back where I’d begun.

 

Lying to pacify the waves,

Dying to be worthy of my allotted time.

 

Wind and snow flow endlessly from my foundation.

Warmth and touch are more like burning teeth.

Better than wearing a heart that’s butter-soft.

How long can I hide from thawing in your spring?

 

Lying to savor little stops in my misery.

Dying a little more to feel comfortable alive.

A Lonely Reward, Cold Satisfaction

Listens to Lo-Fi on her phone,

Admiring the nighttime lights of the city

Through streets blanketed with snow

Where unknown treasures are buried.

Cigarette to her lips

Alongside that sensation around her face,

The teeth of wind,

Is all the satisfaction she can take.

To have hung on,

Lived to see another illuminated night,

Stress momentarily forgotten

Despite the punishing nature of her drive

Is worth rewarding.

She needs something, after all.

Time ever-encroaching

Demands a moment that’s enjoyable.

Dawn spawns the first shadows

As she reluctantly remembers herself,

Retires behind her bedroom windows,

And waits until she can escape again.

 

 

 

A Message For My WordPress Followers

If you’re reading this, I’m sure you know how much it means to know that someone appreciates what you do. Even if it’s a simple ‘like’ now and again, the fact that someone cares enough to do so, and maybe even relates to what you’re saying, is precious.

I’m writing this because my experience with you all on WordPress has been a wonderful one. It’s fulfilling to see my writing acknowledged and even appreciated for what it is. When people respond to something you made, it gratifies you in a way that isn’t quite comparable to anything else I’m aware of. It’s allowed me to justify what I do, given me the confidence to continue, and inspired me to pursue my craft even further.

To that end, I’ve created a patreon page in hopes of finding enough support to spend more time with my creative writing. I’m not expecting anything, but it would help me immensely to pursue my goals, create new things, and connect with you all a little more. It’s a new idea to me, so I’m still figuring things out and open to suggestions, but if anyone cares to join me I’ll be appreciative beyond words. I’m offering exclusive content to all patrons, and handwritten original poems for mid to high tiers.

Again, thank you for being here with me. I’ll still be publishing here regularly, but if you care to support my work on a higher level it would mean the world.

-Sanya E. Walma

A Poetry Poem

I wish I could express

In speech as I do in writing

How much I feel about you,

How heavily I care,

How deeply you affect me,

And everything that means.

Mind to mind,

Or empathy to recognition,

In terms of verbal exchange

Is apt to be uncomfortable.

You can read my poems

And feel me more fully

Than you ever could’ve felt me

Face-to-face.

Extrordinary circumstances

Might expose our true emotions,

But the mundanity of self-consciousness

Prevents a simple telling.

I can try,

And occasionally do well,

But I’ve little hope of equaling

The context of the written word.

I love you.