Sara M. Hall 

Newark, Delaware, USA 

I began writing poetry at a very young age. I found early on, that expressing my feelings on paper, helped me to deal with many painful situations. Some of my poems deal with true life experiences and people. Others are simply fiction. I graduated from Scott Senior High school at the age of seventeen. I married a month later. From this marriage I have two sons and two daughters, and five grandchildren. I was born and raised in Coatesville, PA, along with four sisters, and two brothers. I work on the assembling line at Chrysler Corporation in Newark, Delaware. I have worked there for twenty years. I can't wait for the day I can retire! I am happily divorced! I keep hoping, and praying, that someday, somehow, all of my poetry will be published in book form, and earn me enough to be financially secure.

click here to listen to What's All The Fuss About?
click here to listen to Sea Of Despair
click here to listen to Second-Handed Garments

What's All The Fuss About?

I sat and looked around tonight- and wished with all my heart, 
That each white face would change to black, that would be a start. 
They'd hurry home to love ones- who wouldn't let them in, 
Though nothing would have changed, except the color of their skin. 
Perhaps they'd try to wash it off- scrubbing until raw! 
To find that underneath, there's no difference after all! 
What makes some feel superior, just because they're white? 
I'm black, but not inferior, at least not in God's sight. 
I get up in the morning-I go to bed at night. 
I've eyes, a nose a mouth, a left side and a right. 
Whenever I am hungry-I know enough to eat 
Below my ankles,-I too have feet. 
Since cleanliness is next to God, I take a daily bath 
I cry when I am hurt, - something funny makes me laugh! 
So the only difference, really- is the color of my skin, 
This is held against me-considered quite a sin! 
I've read the ten commandments, and I know for a fact, 
Not one of them read-thou shalt not be black!

Sea Of Despair

There is a sea that beckons me, -- called "Deep Despair," 
And hopelessness and sorrow -- always lead me there. 
Each drop of water in it -- has at one time, been a tear, 
It reflects my mixed emotions -- I can see them crystal clear. 
If I listen I can hear a voice -- quite low, 
Telling me of many things -- I should not know. 
It says it will refresh me-- in its water, dark and cool, 
That living was not meant for me, and death, would not be cruel. 
That all my problems would be solved, in everlasting sleep, 
And I could find my solitude, in darkness, wet and deep.

Second-Handed Garments

A brown hat made of velvet, and a green coat trimmed in fur, 
"Second-handed" garments, that someone gave to her. 
Every single Sunday with the same hat on her head, 
Same coat on her shoulders,-- off to church she'd tread. 
She never had to wonder-- "Whatever shall I wear?" 
For her ever faithful outfit, was always hanging there! 
She was so good at pretending, that, she really didn't care, 
But I would look into her eyes-- and I could see despair. 
I used to wish for magic -- I'd use it first on her, 
I'd fill her empty closet-- with satin, silk and fur. 
She'd glide to church on Sunday-- as lovely as a queen, 
For she'd have the finest wardrobe, this town had ever seen! 
(Yes, I'd surely change her garments, from her head down to her toes, 
But I'd never change the mother -- underneath these clothes!)