Vulnerable

Vulnerable by Tricia-Marie Ward

It’s that part of the day
where life does not stir,
and neither do I.
A certain stillness
in the spaces between,
that fills the noise.
A comfortable weight in the air,
that ceases me away.


<strong>Tricia-Marie Ward</strong>
Tricia-Marie Ward

Tricia-Marie is the name; I am 26 years young but an older soul at heart! A little about me, scenic cliff sides are my favorite places to get stimulated in the arts, it’s a silent place away from the noise of everyday life. My heart has belonged to writing since I was a little tater tot that could hold a pencil. My writing favors all that is ambiguous and romanticized in the world. Writing makes me feel my soul is rejuvenated and at peace again, like I’ve reconnected with myself. I love to spill my soul into poems or haikus that make the reader think, “Wow, she sees me.” 

In this world, all we want is to be seen and heard. I want to do that for people. Thank you for taking the time to read all that my soul carries in my works! 

Instagram: @finchwithapencil

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Funeral

Funeral by Artemis

Lifeless limbs caress the forlorn floor,
A lingering scent of melancholic misery
Kisses air as stagnant as a heart
That has ceased to be a muscle
To be molded into the container for a love
As broken as itself.
Fluttering fingers wander over cracked skin
That used to be silk and sin
Interwoven by a steady hand.
I can’t even touch myself anymore
Because with all this loneliness
Creeping through my voracious veins
It feels too much like yours


<strong>Artemis</strong>
Artemis

My name is Artemis, though I go by Krissi offline, which sounds considerably less mysterious and substantially more practical. Writing has always been a passion of mine – as has been alliteration-heavy poetry like my alias suggests.

I started writing novels at the age of 13, though inventing and writing stories has been an integral part of my existence ever since I can remember. Poetry has accompanied me for many years now—which makes me sound a lot older than the 20 years I am—it’s my way of exploring my innermost feelings and the world around me.

For me, writing has always felt as if words and images were simply invading my mind and pouring out of my fingertips onto the paper – which usually translates to fanatical typing on my phone. It appears I’m merely the medium for my thoughts and feelings, allowing them to enter physical existence. 

Thank you for taking the time to get to know me a little better. If you enjoy my work and are interested in catching a glimpse of my mind, I welcome you to visit me on Instagram under @alliterative_artemis

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Breathe Underwater

Breathe Underwater by J. Rylee D. 

The waves of you, they pull me under
Memories of who we used to be
Like an anchor, they drag me deeper
And I’m finding it hard to breathe

There’s a storm that’s surging through
I swim against the current of you and me
I should’ve run after you
When you turned around, but I watched you leave

Slowly, the pain subsides
But every now and again, those tides will rise
And I won’t lie, I’ve cried
So I let go, and dream that you’re still by my side

Because with you, I can breathe underwater

I just want to say, “I’m sorry, love”
I wish I could be everything you need
I know “sorry” won’t be enough
No words can fix the wounds that cut too deep

Baby, I hope you don’t feel like me
Barely breaking the surface
Waiting for the hurt to roll back out to sea

Sure, it gets hard sometimes
And yeah, I know the tides will rise
No, I won’t lie, I cry
I let go, and dream you’re by my side

Because with you, I can breathe underwater


<strong>J. Rylee D.</strong>
J. Rylee D.

I’m just a 26-year-old girl who spends her life daydreaming. I have always been an avid reader and writer, but recently published my poetry and a book on a public platform.

I like to portray honest and raw vulnerability in my work because life isn’t always pretty. I want to inspire people to fight for their happiness and to tell their truths, because they deserve to be heard and know that they are believed, and that they matter!

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The Dark & The Heavy

The Dark & The Heavy by Radana J Keenan

Dust
it’s everywhere,
it’s covering all the dreams
my naïve head framed.

Echos
in this empty room
are filling my ears
that are aching for a sound.

Darkness
as an obscure cloud,
hovering over me,
weighing me down.

Void
destroying my heart,
destroying my soul,
making a mere shell of a human out of me.


<strong>Radana J Keenan</strong>
Radana J Keenan

Radana J Keenan is a 20-year-old Slovakian dreamer. From very early on, she’s always had her fingers stuck in something creative, whether it was making jewelry, writing stories and poems or drawing.

She’s trying to find her place in this big bad world and decided she might as well try to pursue a career in creative writing since she loves it almost as much as breathing. Books, movies and TV shows were always perceived as the best way to escape the hard reality, but Radana always felt like there was something missing. That something was her voice in a sea of buzz.

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Of the Snow

Of the Snow by Preston Chan

The glistening snow on my back
Halts the frozen death around me.
Looking down, four delicate fluffs of snow
Oh wait, that’s only me.

I look around, nothing beyond yonder except
An endless dark mahogany array of lifeless trees.

Nothing in sight, so shall I ask
What am I doing here?

Daringly sickening like a silver bullet,
At the nook of black eyes,
A grieving leaf falls angelically
To meet its fate as a hidden gem in the white.

Quiet, although failing to silence melancholy.
White, yet lies ominous black that is ever so present.

The seeming balance is outraged
As she weeps in her Siberian fit.
But alas, the ache for something more.
Letting that brass-white light whisk me far, far away.

I guess I was not to be.
Perhaps destined — to be a gem of the free.


<strong>Preston Chan</strong>
Preston Chan

Preston is an aspiring writer new to the scene of professional writing. He especially enjoys writing poems late at night, where his thoughts are most clear.

Besides poetry, Preston likes to dabble in satirical form or horror based fiction. In his free time, he practices his tuba skills, also hoping to become a freelance writer or musician in the future. 

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A Letter to my Best Friend

A Letter to my Best Friend

A Letter to my Best Friend by Mo Unwin

When I was in darkness
You lit up a bridge
Across the river.
We crossed it and walked
All over the city.
We got drunk,
We soared from bar to bar,
Birds free to float about
Knowing no one would hurt us.
You’d never let them.
Then we went home
Wankered.
I told you that
You’ll always mean the world to me.

<strong>Mo Unwin</strong>
Mo Unwin

Mo is a 20-year-old aspiring poet in Bristol. 

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If Photonic Velocity Remains Constant

If Photonic Velocity Remains Constant by Nathan Sweem

No one will hear her words,
Daylight trapped inside
The gravitational field
Of a black star.
Too much to say, anyway.
Makes time slow.
And loneliness heavy.
To say that time slows
Near the stellar core
Is to say that distance expands;
The two are equivalent.
Her spirit eats itself alive
A femtometer at a time
While the universe speeds away
Without her.

<strong>Nathan Sweem</strong>
Nathan Sweem

Nathan Sweem served as an Army linguist for five years. He holds degrees in arabic studies, mathematics, and data analytics. He currently writes novels, short stories, poetry, and creative non-fiction.

Twitter: @SweemSquad

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Fishing

Fishing by John Hansen

On the bank slender cattails reach out and
tall grasses with clouds of swirling insects bite the air.

<strong>John Hansen</strong>
John Hansen

John Hansen received a BA in English from the University of Iowa and MA in English Literature from Oklahoma State University. His work has appeared in The Summerset ReviewThe PluralistPhilological ReviewThe Griot: The Journal of African American StudiesPopMatters, and Philosophy Pathways.

John’s hobbies include golf, tennis, basketball, and flawlessly executing pranks on his wife with the help of his children. He is English Faculty at Mohave Community College in Arizona. 

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Sudden Deaths

Sudden Deaths by Aila Bolandro

I was killed, once
Felt like the world in my hands
Like a bean sprout in a mud
A place I usually don’t hide.

I was killed, twice
Lived my childhood like a mouse
Gotta hide in the sunrise
I filled my treasure chest with cries.

I was killed, thrice
I haven’t even recognized
As if bullets are comrades
A silencer during the night sky.

I lost count with my deaths
A gigantic immortal beast inside
Devouring the peace I desperately built
Livin’ in a coffin ready to be buried.

Lost Then Wander by Aila Bolandro

With the unsteady heart and mind
İ decided to leave for a while
Look for a place to hide
A nest no one will find.

I found a place never been before
It’s quiet? I’m not sure
There are waves just like me
Seems unbothered, or I just thought it to be.

This haven turned into chaos
Didn’t know when it started
Being lost with time again
The cries are never spoken.

İt was a disaster finding this paradise
The soul wandered all the time
Seeking the light under the moonlight
Finding the shelter in the sunrise.

<strong>Aila Bolandro</strong>
Aila Bolandro

She’s Ma. Aila S. Bolandro, a 22-year-old girl from the Philippines who loves to write as a way of expressing unsaid thoughts and releasing unpleasant energy. Writing is her sweet escape.

She dreams of making her book someday to inspire and give hope to others who find writing as an outlet and those suffering from depression and anxiety.  

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Loving Love

Loving Love by Loud Mouth Insane Mind

I wish I could do something,
But loving love wasn’t
as easy as loving someone,

It had to be carefully done,
love was weak-hearted,
one anger stroke
and ways, it parted

a little hate snow
could cause an avalanche
because baby love isn’t someone
with whom you can play around,

and a little ignorance axe
can cut love’s whole branch,
so this time I let love leave,
but someday in my life, I believe,
love will return.

<strong>Louthmouth Insanemind</strong>
Louthmouth Insanemind

Hi guys, I am Tanvi. I am a 15-year-old student from India and I’ve recently discovered the writer side of mine. Writing helps me believe that if freedom can be found with beautiful poetry, then it can definitely be found in real life!

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