15 Dec 2010 1 Comment
in Poetry Tags: desert storms, feelings, healing, ice cream, inspiration, Love, words
Words nourish me
Fill me up to saturation
Desert storm deluges
Soak my soul
As two scoops of Hagen Dazs coffee ice cream
With peanut chips and hot fudge.
Do faucets like wells ever dry up completely?
Will these fingers ever stop talking?
Or run out of things to say
To discuss or argue or feel about?
Will Hagen Dazs ever run out of coffee ice cream?
Now that they know how much I love
A spoonful on my tongue?
11 Dec 2010 3 Comments
in Poetry Tags: courage, family, feelings, healing, inspiration, siblings
We have a lot of history
You and I
Met when I was eight
And you were brand new.
Been locked in combat ever since
Taking sides
Creating insignificant battles
About family matters and such.
You are my mirror and I am yours.
I see my soul reflected in your eyes
As you reveal me back to me.
And I remember us in black and white
And various shades of gray
From childhood photos
We share in picture albums
Removed gently from the drawer of my heart
When I need to see how the puzzle pieces fit.
Sisters live on pedestals
Protect you from reality
Feed you breakfast
Let you crash till noon
When you trespass through their lives
Without apology.
Idols are not vulnerable, and
Certainly not human, like you.
I arrived first to teach you
But you taught me…
About courage
About strength
About will.
While searching
Through my scrapbook of memories
Where I go to find minute pieces of a puzzle
So I can make them fit
I see you standing at my back door
Freezing and damp at 4 am
In black leather, in the dark dawn
Holding an old tattered guitar
After you’d hitchhiked all night
To sing Puff the Magic Dragon
To your new baby nephew…
…My newborn son.
13 Nov 2010 8 Comments
in Poetry Tags: fear, feelings, healing, locks, Loss, memories, skin
many kinds
of bars on windows
types of locks on gates
holding us in
with no skin
to protect the soul
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
16 Sep 2010 7 Comments
in Poetry Tags: feelings, healing, hope, inspiration, longing, Love, Poetry
Upon my sleeve (and around my knees)
More times than I care to remember
Or talk about in mixed company.
There is that special place I keep for you
Like the bag that’s packed
With brandy colored lipstick, ginger cologne
A little black dress, and pink lingerie
That ignites fire in those knowing eyes.
In case…
Just in case…
The wind ever whispers your name
On a crisp October evening
When I answer a knock at the door
And a stranger with your face
Requests to come in.
30 Aug 2010 8 Comments
in Poetry Tags: feelings, healing, inspiration, joy, memories, relationships
Feelings…
like butterflies
in spring
are coming
in all directions at once.
An open book
every nuance
written on my face
in my eyes.
Like seventh grade
when every look
every boy
crushed your ego, or
broke your heart.
Has it been…
so long
since anyone
touched me
that all my feelings…
are coming
like butterflies
in spring
in all directions
at once.
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
06 Jul 2010 Comments Off
in Poetry Tags: Cleveland, feelings, food, fun, krinkle fries, memories, pastrami, pickles, restaurants, smells
Small, crowded delicatessens
Commonly known as delis
With uncommon smells of heaven
Emanating from the front door.
Sounds of serious determination
As slicers carve corned beef
Pastrami…
Low fat turkey breast
With mayo or mustard
On rye (with seeds or without)
Or pumpernickel as the mood strikes.
Animated discussions
Between Marlboro, Camel men
Sitting at the counter
In baseball caps turned around.
Sour pickles…
Sauerkraut with Russian Dressing.
Hot containers filled with hotter oil
Sizzle raw potatoes
Cut into crinkled sticks
To be dipped later
In ketchup or blue cheese
With stains still evident
hours later on blouse or tie.
What a place that reverberates
The sounds and smells of Cleveland
At noon on Thursday in February
A respite from nearby high rises
Filled with people staring at computer screens
Eating peanut putter and jelly sandwiches
On white bread
Out of anonymous plastic containers
Removed from brown paper bags
With tasteless baked chips.
Where else could you find such richness
Of spirit and soul and still hear
‘Honey’ ‘Darlin’ ‘Beautiful’ ‘Babe’
In one small step behind a single door
At Thirty-first Street and St. Clair.
04 Jul 2010 5 Comments
in Poetry Tags: feelings, inspiration, jazz, joy, Love, music, romance
The wailing sounds of sadness
Of saxophones and whispering guitars
Massage my ears
The right side of my neck
A hand lingers on the inside of my thigh.
The small of my back
Longingly remembers the open lips
That traced my form
Still feels the caress
Of fingers placed lovingly
Like a bookmark…
In that space
That has been empty
Of you…
Like my soul
That knows the warmth of your touch
But has forgotten the feeling of you
this long.
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
28 Feb 2010 12 Comments
in Poetry Tags: families, feelings, relationships, volcanos
Feelings…
…unacknowledged since childhood
are erupting
like open wounds
not properly cleansed with antiseptic.
Mourning my losses
resolving my fears
become the purpose of each day.
Emotional scars
ignored too long,
forgotten,
locked away
deep in ones’ subconscious,
not dealt with,
stuffed so deep
one hardly remembers…
…becomes the molten lava,
expanding from inside out,
ultimately,
irrevocably,
pushing away
all those relationships
that finally come to us
with open arms.
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
19 Feb 2010 8 Comments
in Holocaust, Poetry Tags: courage, feelings, healing, inspiration, Love, Poetry
Watching © by Joshua Liberman – The Tao of Photography
A tiny frightened child stands
At the bottom of a hill
Watching…
As the train roars by
Through the tall pine trees
Wondering where it goes.
Does it take you far away?
To someplace warm, peaceful
A place where there is space to sleep
Sunshine to warm your face?
Munich is icy cold, so full of ghosts
Corpses buried by the hands of others.
As she peeks through chocolate eyes
She wonders…
What kind of world stands silently by
Knowingly seeing
Doing nothing…
Allowing the murder of its children
While it looks the other way?
By two she’s learned
Survival means silence
Old socks stuffed in mouths
Too hurt to cry out loud.
She places her needs
Her dreams
Her feelings aside
To be remembered
And dealt with another day.
Invisible…
She watches…
Stuffing all her screams
All the terror down too deep.
Afraid if she begins to cry
She will be unable to stop.
As a whisper…
She stands
Watching the train moving
Through the tall pine trees.
Afraid…
This time it will come and take…
…her Papa away.
