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.
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!
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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
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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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
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!
This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
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.
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.
This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
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.
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.
This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
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.
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If Photonic Velocity Remains Constantby 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.
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.
This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
On the bank slender cattails reach out and tall grasses with clouds of swirling insects bite the air.
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 Review, The Pluralist, Philological Review, The Griot: The Journal of African American Studies, PopMatters, 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.
This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
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.
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.
This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
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.
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!
This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
Escape to Santorini for a Luxury Vacation Overlooking the Sea
Witness the Mars Rover Landing at a VIP Event with Bill Nye
