Poetic Prance

Poetic Prance

By Jay Higgins

The poetic prance of the dancing night 
Now nestled in that nautic sky
 
Where stars explode in silent mode
In the undertone of sea spray foam
 
Of dreams to dream and what’s to be
Of who we are and how we see
 
This poetic prance of all that’s seen
Is simply all that’s lived and been  
 
And in between the dirt and sun
I’ve swum in the love of the silent one
<strong>Jay Higgins</strong>
Jay Higgins

My grandmother gently imparted a fierce, lifelong love of nature, art, and poetry within me. This, I now believe, has merged with a tendency to attempt to understand life in all the mesmerising ways it presents itself.

You could always find me with a pen in my hand. Drawing whilst a young child and teenager and then moving into poetry and journaling in my early twenties.  Although I am not a published author or poet, I take my writing seriously. My work is the expression of myself trying to understand myself and this life we all share.  And, if anything was to be taken more seriously, I don’t profess to know what that would be. I write about life, love, and the people who get caught up in the pain and rapture of it all.

Outside of my day job, I love to read, camp, and hike in nature with my beautiful wife. We also spend our free time travelling as often as we can. Cambodia and her people are like a second home to us.
Follow me on Instagram @jah.word

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Sarah Pletcher Poetry

Sarah Pletcher Poetry

Remember Me

Poetry by Sarah Pletcher

I was called home to gain my wings.
It was scary on Earth.
So full of darkness.
Thank you for being my light.
I'm no longer hurting.
I've been set free from all of the pain.
I put up the best fight I could.
And all along you stood right by.
I'm sorry for losing.
But it will be okay
Tears will fall
Eyes will dry
Hearts will break
Souls will heal
All in time
Truthfully, nothing will ever be the
same.
But please go on living life.
To the fullest extent.
Full of Laughter, Joy and Memories
It my not feel like it
But we've never been apart
I'm right there with you.
Forever in your heart.
Remember me
As you look in the night sky
You were once my shining star
Now, let me be yours.
The love I had for you
Still pouring out freely
As a ravishing waterfall
Remember me
In the field of flowers
The beauty of growth
I'm no longer hurting.
I've let go
It's your turn now.
So, please let go.
Let me forever rest inside your soul.
Remember me
I'll forever be alive.
Go on now, go live your life.

The Fog

Poetry by Sarah Pletcher

Help.
I'm drowning
The demons breathe
in my oxygen
and let out fog.
I can't breathe.
I can't see.
I'm trapped
Can anyone hear me?
Help Help
My worlds falling dark
I'm fading away into the fog
These demons may win.
Where is the sun?
I long for her comforting glow.
All color has fled
Black and white fills my eyes
Reach in and grab my hand
Tell me I'm not alone
Pull me back.
Out of the fog
Into the light.
Remind me
That I can
Fly.
I need you now
More than ever
So please don't let go.
Don't let me drown.
You can't leave me here
Not right now.
Believe in me.
So I can too
I'm just a little bent
Not entirely shattered.
With a little support
I can hold it all together.
I need to heal
But sometimes
We all need a little
Help
Can you be mine?
<strong>Sarah Pletcher</strong>
Sarah Pletcher

I am 21 years old and from Ohio. 
I started writing in middle school. Other than poetry, photography and playing clarinet are my other hobbies. 

I write mainly on my Instagram account @the.shades_sarah.writes. I am a stay at home mom to my two daughters who are 2 years old and 1-year-old.  I’m engaged to their father. It’s a hectic, happy life. 

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Our Love Was

Our Love Was

Our Love Was by Joanne Lee

Our love was

Car shows, summer beer fests, and 24/7 air-conditioning

wet Chelsea boots, crunchy leaves, ice coffee no matter the temperature

puffs of warm air from our mouths in the winter, a preheated car, Christmas and New Year’s Day with family and mutual friends

holding hands, walks to my front door, spicy food that you attempted to eat, and multiple trips to the bathroom

memories of high school, college, after-college, moves, and my first meeting with Potato

waiting, loneliness, and other priorities

misunderstandings, arguments, no one giving in, no one winning

muted tears, looking out opposite windows, long drives in silence

drunk anger, tightly closed mouths, and hearts impenetrable

regrets, limited efforts, and finally, a goodbye

<strong>Joanne Lee</strong>
Joanne Lee

My name is Joanne Lee.  I am a Korean-American, born and raised in Chicago, IL.  In the daytime, I am a regular nine-to-five employee working in accounting but come nighttime – I am whatever I want to be. 

I am the master chef of my kitchen, the top billboard artist of my bathroom, an amateur (very amateur) but enthusiastic potter and photographer, an aspiring writer, and proud mom of my precious puppy; Potato. I love all forms of art, but especially literature. 

My dream in life is to publish a book of short stories and poems but for the moment I take great joy in filling my journal with ideas, thoughts, poems, drawings, and other random tidbits. 

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Poetry by Karissa

Poetry by Karissa

My Heart is an Envious Prisoner at the Party

Written by Karissa Seibel

Stealth and her sisters have taken 
residence at the cul-de-sacs of my nerves.
They held house warmings,
let the hot air humble itself until
it sank down upon the guests’ shoulders 
as a cool, refreshing breeze,
served hors d’oeuvres for every thought of their origin.
When you look me in my eyes tonight,
you’ll find it useful to know my envy
for the ones who aren’t afraid to dance
at the party, the ones who bulldoze
the properties of preconceived panic
and stomp the dust into the ground while 
luscious laughter sings between their lips.
I have tried all my life to let myself out
of my meaty enclosure, but
there’s a reason they call it your rib cage,
for how can a heart never, at least once, 
feel like a prisoner?
When I tell you I do not wish to go out tomorrow,
know that I am not surrendering my plight,
but I am finding a loophole -
a place where I can unlace the corset,
let myself bulge as I ooze a sugary sap of porcelain melting,
of nature in its nonjudgmental air.
When I confess my love for you,
you might find it monumental,
for I have never been this wide open.
<strong>Karissa Seibel</strong>
Karissa Seibel


I am 17 and from Ohio, USA. For as long as I can remember, I have loved writing. I started out with short stories and began writing poetry a few years ago, but began focusing heavily on it just this year.

As this is my senior year of high school, it is time for me to decide what I wish to pursue for a career. I am still a little indecisive, but one of my top choices is to have a career in editing. I just don’t see myself not being involved in the art of writing!

Some of my other hobbies include makeup and fashion. While I only practice those hobbies for fun, I take my writing seriously. Although I do not have a job in the field, I have an Instagram account: @karissa_thinks_in_ink.

I’m always looking at ways in which I can improve as a poet and I am looking forward to continuing to pursue this craft in my future, whether it’s part of my day job or on the side. I hope you enjoy my work and am ever grateful for the opportunities! 

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Not Tonight

not tonight

By Amber Jasinski

She wonders what it would be like to swallow all her pills and fall asleep.
Thoughts darker than the night fill her mind. Pulling her from the feeble grasp of sleep.
Long days of silence broken only by his taunting undulating inhalations and exhalations.
A now-stranger lies a million miles away across the king sized bed.
The mattress where love was once made now presses firmly against her back.
Still and cold.  
Dead.
She drifts lightly off holding the pill bottle tight in her palm.
Security blanket - she knows she could make it all go away so easily.
But she also believes she deserves this.
Pennants for a sin that left her broken and corrosive.
Doomed to destroy what remains of herself and anyone foolish enough to love her.
Trapped in the purgatory of her memory -
Heart racing her eyes open wide, searching.
The weighted blanket wrapped heavily across her in a sad embrace that does not erase the heavy absence of his arm across her body.
Shadows play on the dark walls like his fingers once danced along her skin tracing her curves.
She feels nothing as she runs her own fingers about the forgotten canvas of her body.
She returns the pill bottle to her nightstand and expertly finds the cold hard handle of the pocket knife she keeps hidden “for emergencies” next to her bed.
Dreaming of the warmth of feeling something - anything - as the blade faintly glides over the scar on her left wrist.
“I’m so sorry,” she pleads into the darkness. 
She could finally sleep.
Her secrets never spoken would die with her like all the things she should have but never could bring herself to say.
He’d wake and find her as cold and hollow as he’d said she was these last few years.
It would still be painfully quiet.
The bed would feel just as empty.
She returns the blade to its hiding place.
It would be so easy.
But she can’t.
Not tonight.
 <br><strong>Amber Jasinski</strong> <br>

Amber Jasinski

Amber Jasinski has been writing poetry about the human experience and mental illness for the past several years. She has an undergraduate degree in nursing and works full time as a Registered Nurse.

She is a wife and mother and lives in a full house with her husband, 3 daughters, 2 young grandchildren, her younger brother, and 2 awesome dogs!

She enjoys writing as an avenue to explore her own journey with mental illness and to promote mental health advocacy.

She writes under the name ajblueorion on social media where you’ll find her “lost somewhere between the words and melancholy madness.”

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Not Tonight. Canva

Poetry by Pranav

Poetry by Pranav

The Crescent Moon in the Night Sky

Poetry by Pranav Rustagi

Just like every Saturday night
I was again writing about him
Adding one more chapter to
how he introduced the moon to me
//
I have always sought for darkness
Maybe that is reason why
"No moons" used to be my favourite
Until when he introduced the moon to me
//
I was thinking all this
Lost, staring at the most beautiful thing
Crescent moon it was,
And I remembered when I used to ask him
Why he chose me? 
And just like always, he would say
"You're the crescent moon in my night sky" 
I would always end up thinking 
What a weird amour I had got
And he would chuckle and say
"One day you will understand" 
I was so lost in my darkness
That I never understood what he meant
But tonight I did
In the night sky with billions of stars
I always thought that I was incomplete
Full of flaws and imperfections
But he saw right through my walls
Crescent moon
Though it seems incomplete
But it's the same moon
Which would soon glow on the full moon
I was perfect, just never realised 
With tears in my eyes tonight 
I finally understood what he meant
When he caressed my forehead 
When it hit the dusk... 
<strong>Pranav Rustagi</strong>
Pranav Rustagi

I’m from Delhi, India and doing graduation in the Computer Science field. I am a vocalist.

Besides singing, coding and writing are my basic interests. I’m not that much serious about writing but it won’t be right either if I state that it’s just a hobby for me. My relation with writing is something unexplainable. It has been 2 years since when this talent was passed on to me from a friend of mine who left writing.

I am not yet published but I look forward to having my book published someday. In the end, I’d thank my friend for what I am today. 

Instagram handle: @i_speak_truth_insta 

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poetry by pranav

Yellow

Yellow by Olivia Weeden

A poem by Olivia Weeden

You are yellow to me.
Sunny, happy, bright.
But sometimes,
A little too bright.
A little piercing.
A little blinding.
Yellow speaks of caution,
To slow down.
But sometimes,
We see a yellow light
And go even faster.
A little too fast.
In the right shades,
In the right amounts,
In the right places,
You are calming.
Reminding me of how real
And vibrant everything is.
Keeping me grounded
In yellow.
Yellow is beautiful.
In the right light,
You are golden,
You are soft.
In the right light,
You are harsh,
You are reflective
Of everything I don't want to see
In myself.
You are a highlighter.
Pointing out the information
I need most.
But sometimes 
I get a bit carried away
With my highlighter.
Sometimes I look down,
And an entire page is yellow.
You are overwhelming and
Underwhelming and not
A single bit 
Too yellow. Not
A single bit
Too much.
Because you are you.
You are yellow.
And you are wonderful,
And scary,
And bright,
And soft,
And perfect.
And I love you,
And I thank you,
For being yellow.
<strong>Olivia Weeden</strong>
Olivia Weeden

I’m from Saratoga Springs NY and am a student at Saratoga Springs High School. I love to read and write, and music is also something I’m very passionate about. I love to play cello and am in a quartet and a youth symphony in addition to being a part of my school’s chamber orchestra.

I have also worked part time at a flower farm for the past two years. Writing is something I’ve loved for as long as I can remember, and I am often inspired by the people and places I hold dear. Although it is only a hobby for me at the moment, I hope I can use writing in a much greater capacity in my future.

My Instagram is @olivia_weeden.

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Affinity

Affinity

A poem by Ryan Flett

At night
the moon
pulls at something
in your blood
like it does
the tides,
an embrace
by the heavens
that sense
the stardust
in your veins.
<strong>Ryan Flett</strong>
Ryan Flett

My name is Ryan and I live in Colton, Oregon. I work as a registered nurse, but I also have a degree in English from Portland State University. I’ve always loved writing, but this year I finally decided to make a go of it.

My writing mostly focuses on our connection with nature. Some of my favorite poets include Mary Oliver and Charles Wright. I’m hoping to self-publish my first collection of poems in the near future. 

When I’m not reading or writing my heart out, I’m frequently playing with my two dogs, enjoying a cup of coffee, working on computer programming projects, playing Dungeons and Dragons, or hanging out down at the local record store. 

I frequently post original poems on Twitter. You can follow me @ryanwritespoems 

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Summer Haze on Canvas

Summer Haze on Canvas

Behind the poem Summer Haze

Poem and the article by Deanna M Ramirez

I wrote my poem Summer Haze last spring as an ode to my childhood in Somerville, Massachusetts. Raised in the Mystic Housing Projects as a child, I spent summer days playing outside from morning till night.

Fueled largely by free lunches delivered to our neighborhood. I had no clue as a child it was charity. I relished the convenience of not having to leave the parking lot where I played. And the free lunches always had chocolate milk!

We lived in a third-floor apartment and I didn’t even know what air conditioning was. Summers in the eighties were hot and humid, and I recall drinking in the moist air when it rained. We called them sun showers. The large raindrops splashed off hot rooftops, as depicted in my poem. I can still smell the rain.

Steam rose from the hot concrete. My friends and I played in the puddles that quickly became warm in the sun. The warm puddles felt soothing on my bare feet.

Richie’s slushies.

Richie’s slush truck visited the Mystics daily. He’d drive up, jump out of the driver’s seat, then open the back filled with white tubs of Italian ice. My favorite is still watermelon. Ma loved lemon. I think it’s still her favorite, too. Cooling down with delicious slushies is a fond childhood memory.

My mother put change in a small plastic baggie, if we had one. She’d drop the bag out the window after I yelled up to her asking for a slushie, “Ma, ma! The slush truck is here! Can I get one?”

If we didn’t have a baggie, she’d just toss change out the window! Richie’s truck didn’t waste time, and I rarely had time to run up two long flights of stairs to get the money.

The coins bounced off the concrete scattering, and I’d chase them down. I remember the immense relieve when my hands held my watermelon slushie. It tasted amazing in the blazing summer heat.

Summer Haze will forever hold a special place in my heart. I’m grateful to have a beautiful quality canvas, thanks to Canvas HQ, to showcase the poem.

Summer Haze Canvas Contest

In honor of Summer Haze, I’m having a seven-day writing contest. The winner will receive a canvas (same size as mine)! Keep reading!

Summer Haze on Canvas

Write a short piece (poetry or prose) about home. Write something that inspires thoughts of home through your eyes. It can be a new sense of home and belonging, or fond nostalgic memories.

Share your piece on Instagram using the hashtags #evepoetrycontest and #canvashq. Deadline is October 31, 2019.

Visit the contest post on Instagram. Like the post and tag two friends in the comments to qualify.

I’ll announce the winner on November 2nd.

I’ll announce the winner on November 2nd on Instagram. The prize canvas is the size shown in the photo of Summer Haze on canvas above. Dimensions are 24″ x 36″ x 1.5″.

This post contains affiliate links. An affiliate link means I may earn advertising/referral fees if you make a purchase through my link, with no extra cost to you. It helps to keep this little magazine afloat. Thanks for your support. Read full disclosure here.

CanvasHQ special promotion.

Order your own canvas and receive 35% off plus free shipping and handling on US orders. Click here and use the promo code: eve poetry.

Magical and Majestic: Niagara Falls

Magical and Majestic

A poem by Veena Ramaswamy

Awe struck by the breathtaking magical scenery that lay before me,
Boarded the double decker ferry that floated along the shiny clear waves of the blue sea.
Clothed myself with a red rain poncho as I scurried through the queue,
To experience the beauty of the natural wonder that painted an iconic view.
 
My body rocked as the boat swayed to the crashing waves of the river,
The freezing water trickled on my face, sending me a little shiver.
The foggy mist clouded the entire vast area and suddenly wrapped around my eyes,
Became frightened of the loud thundering sound, which actually unraveled an astonishing surprise.
 
The incredible divine beauty of the Niagara Falls ascended while the sparkling mist faded away,
My eyes beamed with joy at the sight of the historic amazement which lay at the heart of Canada and USA.
The ferry smoothly slithered through the rapid current of the aquarium-blue whitewater, beneath the rainbow bridge.
As the raging torrent of 80,000 gallons of water forcefully tumbled down the basalt mountain ridge.
 
The two deafening waterfalls plummeted downward, pounding the edge of the metamorphic rock formation,
Sprays of liquid silver water splashed into the depths of the paradisiacal pool, transforming into a foam of lather with shiny crystallization.
It was a moment of bliss and serenity as the ferry cruised along the varnish clear pool,
Which looked like a curtain draped with distinct threads of silky blue satin and shined brightly like an expensive glass jewel.
 
As the excursion came to an end and the steamboat docked along the shore,
Stood there, speechless at the sight of the mystical beauty which I’ve never seen in my life before.
Infatuated by the mesmerizing God given wonder, my eyes suddenly dazzled red, orange, green, and blue.
The vivid colors of the translucent rainbow arched gracefully through the dreary sky,
bleeding a palette of prismatic shades which saturated the horizon with a crimson hue.
 
The humming of the ferry’s horn gradually subsided, realizing that I just couldn’t take my eyes off of the heavenly falls that was sparkling at a distance.
As I took my last step to board off the ferry, I leaned over my shoulder one last time to witness the eternal existence.
The beauty of the Niagara Falls etched into my soul as the magic followed me all the way home. As months passed by, the phenomenal journey was just unforgettable, leaving traces of memories which looked exquisite even in shades of monochrome.
<strong>Veena Ramaswamy </strong>
Veena Ramaswamy

Veena is a simple, fun loving, & ambitious person, raised in the nation’s capital of Washington DC. She graduated from Boston University, with a Masters in CIS and Data Analytics.

Her main principle in life is to work hard, be humble, be yourself, and follow your dreams! She is also an avid learner and a creative thinker.  She has a passion for exploring new things and leveraging her talents and skills.

She has loved writing since childhood and is one of her fave hobbies apart from drawing, nature photography, dancing, blogging, etc. She is also a lifestyle blogger and has her own blog called Beyoutiful. She has also published other poems in Brown Girl Magazine and Nature Writing Magazine. 

As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you.  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.