Sweet November by Micheline Mourad

Sweet November by Micheline Mourad

Sweet November by Micheline Mourad

Love as sweet
As I can remember
A new beginning
New chance or maybe
A reminder
To all broken hearts
And tired souls
Not to surrender
To the bitter taste
Left by October
Nor to be afraid
For it’s not meant
To last forever
So hold your Hopes high
Dare to dream
Fall in love
And reach the sky
For as long as I can remember
This is the true taste
Of a sweet November

Meet Micheline

Micheline Mourad
Micheline Mourad

 Hello, I’m Micheline Mourad, from Lebanon.  I’m a 25-year-old graduate with a degree in teaching English as a second language.  My career life never affects my dream of becoming a writer/poet.  

My hobbies are for sure writing and reading for other poets. My passion for poetry has become a rising dream for me till I came up with Poetic Dream.

Below you’ll find my IG link where you’ll read romance, real life relatable poems and quotes that I hope you enjoy reading.

I have a collection of poems (not published yet) and now working on Poetic Dreams short stories you’ll find on IG too.
Hope you fall in love of my poetry!  

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. 

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The Girl of the Past

The Girl of the Past

The Girl of the Past by Victoria Borges

 She is pinned to the bed by the 
strength of your body.
No means no. You chose it means yes.
You grumble she had this coming.
She holds her breath and believes if
maybe I just listen and do as he says I
will be able to endure.
This moment is the moment you take
something she will never get back.
This is the instant she vanishes.
She is reborn and she is scarred.
Never smiling again that smile has
been forever tattooed to the
girl of the past.

Meet Victoria

Victoria Borges
Victoria Borges

Hi, literary world! 
My name is Victoria, a Torontonian millennial looking to put a smile back into society one word at a time.
I started writing to put my feelings down on paper –  almost looking for a way to release or understand what I might be feeling.  Started to think of all the times I read something that got me to move, feel or laugh and how those words just made everything a little better. 

I love photography and often like to match my writing with a piece of art that really impacts the words on the page. Writing is a passion and very important to me. Though I have nothing in the works, I hope to soon; I manage a business that can take up a lot of my time. 

I’m also the mother of a rambunctious Jack Russell Terrier named Chewbacca. He is my heart and a big part of my life. 
I hope my words have made a difference. 

Follow her work on Instagram:  t.solivagant 

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Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 2019

Thanksgiving 2019 | Family, Loss and Forgiveness by Deanna Ramirez

Trigger Warning: Touches on childhood abuse and death.

Last night, I learned my grandfather passed away. I said my goodbye on Monday morning. His eyes, narrow slits, peered at me briefly. I think he saw me, though I don’t know for sure.  

I haven’t seen my grandfather for nearly two years. He and my grandmother lived with my aunt. She and I had a falling out years back.  She doesn’t like me around. So I’m no longer invited to birthdays or holiday celebrations.

Family history

I come from a family of enablers.  Many family members who protect and huddle around those who do bad things.  It’s a systemic issue, starting at the top.  That’s how disease is.  It begins at the pinnacle, then spreads as far as it’s allowed to reach. If nothing fights it. If no one uses antibiotics or anti-viral practices, it spreads its infection everywhere.

The vicious cycle of abuse continues in families so long as enablers are present. So long as enablers don’t acknowledge their part in it. This cycle distanced me from most of my family. Family that I moved to Oregon to be near. 

Silence

I wrote a micro-poem months ago and shared it on Instagram: “Silence. The most underrated weapon.” 

I know this to be true.  Sickness. Evil. It flourishes with silence.  In abusive families, it’s silently demanded. My experience with this broke my heart. My family rewarded the silence and shunned the truth when I spoke out. Speaking out, talking about it at all, met with discomfort, curiosity, judgment, and nothing at all.  

As a child, I experienced the worst violation. Never did I speak of it. Guilt and shame kept me quiet. Confusion and the inability to understand why it happened kept me silent too. I’ll spare you the unnecessary private details and include only those aspects surrounding it.

Breaking my silence set me free. And it didn’t set me free. It was not an instant band-aid. Speaking the truth was messy and confusing in ways I couldn’t expect.

In fact, breaking my silence at twenty-six years old led to the destruction of a marriage and my family as I once knew it. Instead of relief, it filled me with a fear of people “knowing”, and many unexpected emotions for me to process.  I didn’t process them. 

The problem with silence is that in its power, it creates a habit of it.  I became great at burying my feelings. Making them go away completely.  It wasn’t real.  I needed to believe that. When things aren’t real, they can’t hurt you. 

Cousins and Truth

A few years ago we had a “cousin retreat” at the beach. I’m the eldest of eighteen cousins, most of which live in Oregon. We rented a large beach house. Many of my cousins and their families showed up, and all was fun and light-hearted. Until…

One cousin asked me about my childhood. About the thing I kept silent about. My stomach flipped when she asked. But I saw her eyes. I don’t know how long ago she learned of it, but she had questions and concern and I could see she needed answers. I did not owe her answers. But I love my cousin and don’t want her to speculate on details of that nature so I answered each question she asked. Other cousins trickled into the room we occupied. They had questions too.

The next day, a family member that wasn’t part of the private discussion said something to me at breakfast. He felt it was inappropriate that I talked about my childhood trauma during our happy gathering. He seemed to think I started the conversation and offered the gory details of my childhood unsolicited. His side remark punched me in the gut and I felt embarrassed and ashamed.

An aunt who joined our cousin beach retreat stepped in to comfort the family member who shamed me. “If you want to talk about it, for some perspective,” she said, concerned. She ignored me standing there in the kitchen. Standing there in disbelief. Everyone else quiet, eyes down at their breakfast.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that day. It hurt me deeply. Instead, I’ve only screamed in dreams. Vivid dreams where I screamed everything I never knew I wanted and needed to say. Just writing this – the pain is there still.

Family Shame

Remembering that moment at breakfast with my cousin, whom I love, still makes my heart ache. It chokes me up. How could he not understand? How could he blame me? Why would he shame me by scolding me like that?

It wasn’t his fault. My aunt shielded him from the truth.  A family of enablers protecting the wrong people. In doing so, many of my family members had the wrong information. Can’t fault them for that. 

Still, it hurts.  No family member outside my immediate family (except for one aunt who sent a text message) expressed compassion for what happened to me.  No sympathy or empathy. Only judgment, questions, and now, separation and exclusion.  No invites to Thanksgiving dinner.  

And I buried it. For the past few years, I have replaced disappointment and hurt with anger and no shits given

I’ve spoken of the beach house incident twice to family members. Or tried to.  Always, it came out in this feverish, don’t-know-how-to-say-it way. I searched earnestly for an understanding response. A sign of support. Both times, it left me feeling worse than I did before. Sorry, it was inappropriate of me to bring it up.

Now, I save this topic, in any capacity, for my entrusted circle. It consists of few people. They know who they are. (My sisters, especially. I love you!)

This is my first time writing about it. My vague it. Because I still don’t like to call it what it is.

The reason I share now, with you…

Because Thanksgiving is a time for reflection. My grandfather just died and my brain is on my family. As death does, it claws reality up to the harsh surface and forces you to face it.

My whole life, people preached grace and forgiveness to me. “Forgiveness sets you free.” “Forgiveness is for you, not for them.” My small, developing brain hard-wired itself to silence. As a child, the only way I could forgive was to pretend it never happened at all. “Forgiveness” is an enabler’s favorite tool. It’s evil’s favorite control device.

Not to say forgiveness has no place. However, if someone violates you, forgiveness is a default expectation. It should not be. We should not force forgiveness down throats of little girls and women, young or old. It’s confusing. It is harmful.

Thanksgiving 2019 – Empowerment

This Thanksgiving I’m taking back my power. Yes, it’s cliché, but dammit, it’s a good cliché!

I’m thankful for the family I have that supports and loves me unconditionally. My brothers and sisters. Mother and stepmother. My husband and children. They know my truth and never judged or shamed me for it.

I believe in forgiveness.  This Thanksgiving I forgive myself. The little girl who silenced herself to survive. 

I forgive the young woman that broke her silence, changing the dynamics of her family forever. I forgive the single mother who believed she failed her children time and time again.  A mother who wasn’t always emotionally or mentally present in the months and years following divorce. 

My forgiveness of self won’t happen overnight.  I type this and share it with you to make myself accountable. I have much healing to do and it won’t be easy. Not with the ease in which I fall back into the bury-it-and-forget-it mode.  Not with the small hurts that occur from extended family who open up old wounds.  My wounds require serious naturopathic therapy.  Deep cleansing and flushing out of toxins.

Forgive yourself this Thanksgiving.

Now that I’ve shared personal information in vague detail, I hope to inspire you to contemplate forgiveness and what it means for you. 

This Thanksgiving, I implore you to focus on YOU.  To those who experienced abuse, for those who suffer in silent guilt, it’s not your job to forgive your offender.  It’s our life’s work to forgive ourselves.  To reclaim our power.  Erase the stigma we have of ourselves. Practice true self-love.  It’s the only way we can be free. And the only way we can truly give love to those around us who deserve it. 

This Thanksgiving I’m thankful for you. Thank you for reading my words and my truth. Thank you for your support and love. xoxo, Deanna

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Flower Crown

Flower Crown

Flower Crown by Deveree Extein

Instead of waiting
for someone to 
send me flowers
I am going to pick
them for myself
and weave them 
into a crown

I will be my 
own queen
<strong>Deveree Extein </strong>
Deveree Extein

Deveree Extein is a poet and painter based out of southeastern Louisiana.

This poem is featured in her debut chapbook, Flicker, which is now available on Amazon.  

When she is not sketching or scribbling, she is reading, re-watching Gone with the Wind, or snacking. Instagram: @wordsiwantyoutohave

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.

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Ex Lover

Ex Lover

By Deanna Ramirez

 Lover you will not be the death of me ⠀
Never have I relinquished such power ⠀
Allowing you only the idea of it ⠀
Raving lunacy of self absorption with eyes to see ⠀
only what they wish⠀
My aura billows abundant radiant light⠀
consuming me⠀
And I embrace it⠀

Ex Lover⠀
bound in darkness too blind to ever see the light 

Equalizer

Equalizer

Equalizer, a poem by Deanna M Ramirez

The war in me for equality
For equal pay
Performing quality work 
in the same way
And never needing to be told
Cause I have integrity to uphold
I do what is right
Regardless of whose around
or nowhere in sight
In my skin, I have nothing to hide
Living above reproach
with family on my side
Not the one's that you may think
Most of them prefer 
that I fail and sink
Please don't waste pretense to worry about me
I know who to trust and hold close
Those who are fake
in due time, truth wins
and their lies are exposed

Deanna M Ramirez ©

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Her Name Means Life

Her Name Means Life

A poem by Deanna M Ramirez

A storm
inside a rainbow
along the curious trail of a white rabbit
Her name means life
which manifests with ferocity
and subconscious conviction
Her highs soar above the mountains
Lows steep thoughtfully, deeply
Always contemplating life
and where she is headed
Anxiously plotting and planning
Her future is bright and shining
Her opportunities endless
She works hard
Needs no prescription 
for her laser focused vision
Propelling purposeful practice
of her talents that she perfects
She conquers her fears
and will claim her birthright
Her destiny is written in the stars

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Sum, a poem

Sum a poem

A poem by Deanna M Ramirez

Stop allowing the fear of what others' think ⠀
subtract from your possibilities!⠀
You are not the sum of opinions⠀
You are not the sum of mistakes⠀
You are the sum of You ⠀
Holding whatever You want to be⠀
completely in Your hands 

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Splintered, a poem

Splintered a poem

A poem by Deanna M Ramirez

Eyes full of judgment and no ⠀
attempt to mask their message ⠀
You don't know me yet you're sure you do⠀
Transmission received but I pause⠀
Self awareness an earned attribute ⠀
escapes those with critical eyes ⠀
You wish me harm, yet I feel sadness ⠀
not of self⠀
I see eyes burred with pain, ⠀
baring truth of their owner⠀
Eyes say, "I am stupid. Not good enough. ⠀
I want what you have."⠀
To which I reply, "I am not your enemy ⠀
nor your competition. ⠀
Splintered eyes impede vision. ⠀
Pluck out the fragments ⠀
that you may see your beauty ⠀
and love yourself.

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Reflection, a poem

reflection a poem

Reflection, a poem by Deanna M Ramirez

Reflecting for days⠀
Frozen in place⠀
A future wide open⠀
too large to embrace ⠀

A mind bound perplexed ⠀
tangles simple ideas⠀
Put mind rest at ease⠀
Enjoy chance⠀
which appears ⠀
Squash ugly lies ⠀
false facts fed by ⠀
faint fears⠀

Swallow all pride⠀
Dig deep from inside ⠀
Then relish rewards reaped ⠀
Whence you reside

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