Micropoetry Monday: Love Story

Sepia heart

He’d been defrocked,
& she’d been disbarred.
They fell in love
as they’d fallen into other traps:
Through blood that flowed
away from the brain &
into their erogenous danger zones.
Their recklessness brought them crashing together,
even though he couldn’t save her
any more than she could defend him.

He was Urban Dictionary,
she, Merriam Webster.
She thought him crude,
he thought her a prude,
but when they had to work together
to meet a common goal,
they found a common interest:
each other.

He was meat & potatoes,
she, veggie burgers & sprouted grains.
Over dark chocolate mousse
with white chocolate antlers,
they fell for one another,
realizing that the savory had kept them alive,
even as the sweet had sealed the deal with a kiss.

Poem-a-Day April 2018 Writer’s Digest Challenge #25. Theme: Intriguing/Seldom-used word


Biff O’Brady & Mary Kaye Lady–
stuck in white- & pink-collar jobs–
felt repressed in neckties & bras.

So they decided to go for no collar-,
hooking up with the green-collars
that kept the solar-paneled roofs
over their heads.

And when they were finally
given the Jimmy Choo boot,
they realized that they’d
just been feeling blue.
(Collar, that is.)

“Official” definition:  https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Hobosexual


Writing prompt: The symbols of your life


I wish I could take credit for this idea, but my Contemporary Literature professor last semester asked us to examine our life as a literary text–to search for symbols.

My name is Sarah Lea, which is symbolic of my love for baking, as well as a nod to my playful nature (when it comes to writing, anyway).  And though I’m not generally a fan of Urban Dictionary, I rather love the definition they attributed to my name:  https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Sarah-Lea

As for the things I carry, well, that always includes a tube of Revlon’s “Love is On” lipstick (symbolizing my love for anything red or retro), a pair of tweezers, and a flosser.  (There will never be a hair on my chinny-chin-chin.

In the pocket of my red purse (which my husband helped me win at a “Dirty Santa” party), I keep a USB drive, which represents my love for compact, but tangible things (verses saving everything to a mysterious “cloud”). It’s why I read physical books and not e-books. It’s why I write articles for the print version of The Corsair and not for the web (unless they ask me to or shove a story I wrote for the print edition online because they “ran out of room”).

For me, there is something more permanent and prestigious about print. It cannot be edited once it’s been printed (like an online article) and it looks so much better in a scrapbook.

A brand-new suitcase, now several years old, reveals that I never have enough money to travel, but that I hope to someday. The fact that it exists at all is optimistic, which I attribute to my Pollyannish nature. For now, the case is a storage space for my out-of-season (or “when I am skinny again”) clothes, which forecasts that a trip to Iceland or Australia (or Skinnyville) won’t be happening any time soon.

So analyze (or psychoanalyze) the symbols that make up the text that is your life.  You just might learn something new about yourself.

A Christmas Thought: Mine…Everyday

As William Wordsworth spoke of the “hour of splendor in the grass”, I am enjoying some peace and quiet in a house that naps–myself, the exception.  When it is quiet and I am alone, that is when I do my best work.  A Facebook friend of mine just recently quoted (from Urban Dictionary) “Introverted people gain their energy from their own, complexed inner world, and tend to feel exhausted when they have to interact A LOT with people. (extroverted people gain their energy from the people around them).”  Perfectly put.  Yes, I draw from personal experience (which includes my interactions with other people), but I don’t “bounce off of other people”; rather, I draw from a well somewhere deep inside myself, and that is what flows onto the paper (or screen) in a sometimes muddy stream of consciousness.

My family does most of their celebrating on Christmas Eve night; Christmas Day is spent recovering from it all (Stevia Coca-Cola with Crown Royal, anyone?), so I use that time to reflect on the coming year, and how I hope to continue to make each better than the last.  When it comes down to it, even though this Christmas was a “Hard Candy Christmas” (a la Dolly Parton), what with our financial struggles, I wouldn’t trade all I’ve learned and accomplished and enjoyed to go back.  It is in this way, every year does get better and better.  Sure, I want more, but I also want to be more, do more, and that’s what I hope for this next year:  simply more, of what matters.

As for today, my readers, I leave you this thought:  Sometimes, we can look at the same person in different ways, and though the ways be different, they can all still be true (or have some truth in them):


He humbled Himself to become a child,
to be cared for by the least of them.
He chose the low and lowly road,
to reach His highest potential.
His royal lineage was masked
by meager beginnings,
His crown of glory, an invisible halo.
He became the Everyman,
so He could understand the soul of Everyman.
He grew inside a woman who was chosen
and who,
in turn,
chose Him.
Those who believe,
see Him everywhere,
in the strangest places and
most unlikely situations
because He is everywhere
inside those who believe;
for they are looking not outside themselves,
but somewhere inside.
They see Him,
only to find themselves.
He isn’t ours,
but He is mine,
as He is for each one of us.
He is limitless.