Andy

Andy by Terra Vagus

Black coffee smells like-

Early mornings and memories

of when I was young and not allowed

to indulge in such things.

Tobacco smells like-

Early mornings and conversations

I never counted on ending.

I never knew I’d miss you for such a length of time.

Never stepped outside myself to realize our separate journeys-

Until my last hug to you that night on that gurney.

I really don’t know that you even knew it was me.

Grieving your departure was a robbed opportunity.

Now I’m trapped with flash floods of sadness and painful memories. Forever longing for just one more morning of black coffee, tobacco, and conversations with you.

<strong>Terra Vagus</strong>
Terra Vagus

Terra Vagus is an introverted 20-something who resides in the Pacific Northwest. When they aren’t writing, they either have their nose in a book or they are out scouring abandoned and creepy places for anything paranormal. Terra Vagus is a lover of animals, literature, ghosts and the Earth. 

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The Sky

The Sky

The Sky by Magdalena Garcia

The sky I see when I look out my window is the most beautiful sky my human eyes has seen.
I’ve seen yellow, dark blue, purple, pink, orange, and gray skies.
Even a gray sky is beautiful to me.
I’ve seen a sky that will make you cry.
I’ve seen a sky that will make you say He is real, there’s no doubt.
I’ve seen a sky that will make you marvel in delight.
I love looking out my window, and looking up at the beautiful sky.
It makes me feel alive!

Glass Shells by Magdalena Garcia

Every time I’m around you, or talk to you I’m walking on glass shells.
I have to constantly think twice, or sometimes three times before any words come out of my mouth.
The last thing I want to do is step on those glass shells, and hurt myself.
I thought glass shells were only found on the beach, but instead I find them close to me every time you’re with me.
I notice that you aren’t emotionally available to me.
Those glass shells are beautiful, but the damage they cause when stepped on will leave me with scars both physically, and mentally.
Maybe if I tell you what those glass shells are doing to me, the hurt that they are causing me you’ll get rid of them, for me.
Maybe you won’t because you like those glass shells, and think that they’re beautiful…
Please don’t be deceived by there beauty!
Those glass shells are ruining us.
I’m going to try my best to remove them myself piece by piece, but if I see that you aren’t trying to help me I’ll let you keep the glass shells, but you will loose me.  

Three Angels by Magdalena Garcia

I believe there are angels among us.
I’ve been blessed with three.
My three angels are different, and unique.
They mean the world to me!
They bring qualities to the table that makes them very special to me.
My oldest angel is strong, but also sweet. He was given to me when my life was upside down to bring me peace.
My middle angel is just like me she looks, walks, and talks like me. Her strength amazes me!
My youngest angel is as smart as can be, and that one is attached to me. He will protect me like he’s a beast.
My three angels are strong, and give me life.
They make me want to stay, and fight.
My three angels love me unconditionally, and make me a better version of me!

<strong>Magdalena Garcia</strong>
Magdalena Garcia

Magdalena is an Author of a poetry book named: The Madness Inside My Head that’s available on Amazon. Her work has been featured in multiple literary magazines.

She presently resides in East Harlem, Manhattan, and is the mother of three courageous children. Magdalena is a domestic violence survivor, and writing is therapeutic, for her. She loves to write, and does it everyday!

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Colors

Colors by Natalia Imran

Everything around was so black
And it was like I was a wreck
You came from the blues
And pulled me through

You introduced me to all the yellows
And I had never looked so mellow
Opened my eyes to all the goldens and greens
I had never felt so young, even at sixteen
I kept running around in circles

You put me on my throne of purples
This fire inside had never calmed
But now I see the reds in your warmth
I had never felt so blue and light
You made me feel as if I was in the sky
You still come to me like I am the moon
After a gloomy grey afternoon

<strong>Natalia Imran</strong>
Natalia Imran

Hi, I am Natalia Imran from Pakistan. My hobbies include writing poetry and articles. I also like to paint and draw sometimes. I am just a student and have no day job at the moment of course.

The focus of my writing is to deliver positivity, hope, clarity and many things through my poetry. It is not just a hobby, it’s a passion. I take my writing very seriously and wish to have a book published one day. No, i don’t have any published books yet. 

Instagram account: @absolute_felicity
Twitter account: @Natalia_Imran

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When I Look at my Hands

When I Look at my Hands by Aashna Aggarwal

When I look at my hands,
I see my mother’s string of rosary beads
wrapped around her delicate fingers;
her mind sunk in prayer;
the string held as tight as she held
my body frame inside her womb.
I see the food she made
warming herself in
the flame of her stove,
her hands the colour of turmeric
and wheat.
I see her black hair
with hints of silver in between,
just like the crosses and stars
spread across my palm.
She would hold my hands when I cried tears of pain,
and when things slipped out
of my own hands,
she would collect the fallen sand,
mould them into a sword
and hand it to us,
so we can protect the kingdom we call our body
and learn to love it.
My hands, you see,
are more hers than mine
so much so that
her love is the dough
of my baked body,
her rosemary scent
is embedded in my palms,
the lines on my hands
trace the wrinkles on her face.

<strong>Aashna Aggarwal</strong>
Aashna Aggarwal

Since I was twelve, I have constantly been fighting wars with myself. I’ve been on this battlefield called my mind for as long as I can remember, and since giving up is never an option, I decided to write. As

a beginner, I rambled around with words a lot. I used to write until my mind exhausted itself completely. Sometimes I wrote with such vigour that my fingers swelled up and even started bleeding. Slowly, I was able to weave my words into poetry.

Although it has only been three years since I wrote something for the first time, in my journey as a writer, I have seen immense growth. I have healed in so many different ways. The process has never been linear, but it has always been beautiful. 

For inspiration, I try looking at the world from different perspectives. I try to make every beautiful moment I witness immortal with the help of my art. I try to travel and explore as much as I can so that I can gather everything that the world has to offer me.

India, my motherland is a place so beautiful, one can never get tired of relishing its diversity and charm. It truly is the Land of the Gods. Living in such a beautiful country, I find creative outlets everywhere, at the end of every street, at every corner where an old man with a long grey beard sits playing the flute and even the little kids in pigtails that run around flying kites. 

Writing is something that is very close to my heart. Writing, to me, is like entering an alternate universe where I can be whatever I desire. Not being able to write, leaves me in such an intense hysteria, that everything else seems impossible. I have a website where I write about advice, different life lessons and stories that I’ve picked up along my journey through life, fashion tips and showcase my photography. I have also been working on a book for a while.

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The Song of the Sea

The Song of the Sea

The Song of the Sea by R.Aleson

Step into the frozen waters,
Of the silent, deep sea.
It’s the wilderness of waves,
And one little wave is me.
Underneath the moon,
Embedded in the starry sky.
Its shimmering, silver rays,
The sea’s depths they tried to pry.
The waves painted themselves black,
To let the stars see their own shine.
In this world where all is dark,
There are things that do not dwine.
The sea conjured another ether,
Within the embrace of its tides.
To have a word with the dreamers,
Who sat by its side.
With water crashing against great boulders,
The silhouetted sea rushed out of sight.
The waves sang their beautiful song,
And danced away in the moonlight.

R.Aleson

I am from Punjab, India and presently I am merely a student. I do consider myself serious in terms of writing and am just a freshman at the same. 

My other hobbies are reading, writing stories, painting and listening to music. I do intend to publish a poetry book.

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My Bubble

My Bubble

My Bubble by Rachel Murphy

I’m trapped in a bubble,
Everything I see through a screen.

I’m trapped in a bubble,
They can’t hear me outside.

I’m trapped in a bubble,
Always floating but I don’t know where.

I’m trapped in a bubble,
Please don’t let it pop

Rachel Murphy

I am an undergraduate history student from Ireland. I have always loved reading and writing. I am a creative person, I love drawing, painting and playing music but have only recently started writing poetry more seriously and sharing it.

Poetry has always been a comfort to me, as I feel it is one of the most raw and impactful ways of sharing thoughts. With poetry, lyrics and art I always seek that deep emotional connection, and I enjoy exploring that with my own writing. 

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Aurum

Aurum by Monobina Nath

Aurum by Monobina Nath

What? Are you scared?
It’s just a glance,
Not the complete story,
As I am the author.
I don’t regret later,
As I haven’t drop my passions and desires yet,
If a stranger came and say, “Don’t you believe in love?”.
I stood silent, then say, “Now you came!”
As Eros visited Psyche only at dark night.
I believe in love itself,
But first I intend to believe in myself.

I am dying enough for love
I will live by my pen, just what Jane had done in Becoming Jane.
Emotions need to be controlled well,
My characters will have too bit of trouble,
But I am, now, assert to be someone like Artemis,
who possess virginity, an introvert,
but an independent temperament.
I became someone,
that aurum itself can’t defeat me.

<strong>Monobina Nath</strong>
Monobina Nath

I am Monobina Nath from Kolkata, India. I love to write poetry that help me to express my ideas, feelings, and about my culture and tradition. I prefer to write about maidenhood, women strength, nature, dark,  mythology and history etc.

In my poem ‘Aurum’, dedicated to maidenhood or bachelorette,  symbol of virginity, purity and chastity. The title ‘Aurum’ has many symbolic meanings: Aurum – Gold (pure and strong),  a sweet Italian liqueur (warm and shy),  a loyal guardian of Reyna in mythology (faithful and devoted). 

Besides writing poetry, I like to write short stories, phrases and designing jewelry. Through writing as my profession I would like to uplift and encourage those people who are depressed and struggling in their lives. I always write with solemness and cheerful manner. I have planned to prepare a collection of poetry in a book. Readers can follow me in Instagram @monobinanath 
Thank you to evepoetrygroup for the support.

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Lost

Lost

Lost by Priyesh Saraswat

Maybe you had a bad day, or your loved ones didn’t stay
Maybe you lost someone or your feelings were crushed
Maybe you got up late in the morning
Maybe you broke your D string
Maybe you didn’t have the energy today
Or you stayed in bed all day.
And you’ll say that I’m a fool

But it’s OKAY.
All of us go through this sometimes
Or maybe we need this to get unwind.

And it’s OKAY.

We are locked. And we need to find the key
But it’s nothing to worry,
Because it’s hidden within you & me.
So, let’s get lost in ourselves
And get connected with our soul
To prepare a defense for this realm
And fill our energy bowl.

So, let’s get LOST.

Silence by Priyesh Saraswat

One fine day
She came to me & asked
Why are you so silent today?
Are you thinking about something?
Is everything fine with you?
And I looked at her,
Yes, everything is fine.
Yes, I’m thinking about something.
I’m thinking about the beauty of silence.

She replied
I didn’t get it
How can something like silence
Have a beauty inside it?
Okay, just let it be.
Get ready for the beach walk tonight
You remember, right?
I got up from the bed.
Yeah, how can I forget?
We’ll leave in 30.

It was a full moon night.
The beach was looking so bright.
We both took off our sandals
Hold them with one of our hands
And holding each other’s hands
While hugging each other
We walked side by side.
Staring at the stars.
Gazing at the moon.
Looking at each other’s scars
We almost swoon.
That was a memorable night.
We were holding each other so tight.

Another fine day
She came to the balcony
Hand me over a cup of coffee
Held my hand & tangled our feets
And said.
Silence is harmony.

<strong>Priyesh Saraswat</strong>
Priyesh Saraswat

Writing is something that makes him discover himself. He started writing in the first year of college but left it for some reason. Though, his love for reading poetry/fiction & listening to some beautiful lyrics never died which somehow inspired him to resume writing after one and a half years.

Taking writing as one of his favorite hobbies, he will be joining a job as a Software Developer soon. Also, he aspires to release his book of poetry someday and maybe try his hand in novel writing too. 

It was not until April of this year that he started writing poems frequently and started sharing them on Instagram. If you want to see more of his work, have a look at his Instagram Page and support him if you like it.

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Chatterbox

Chatterbox

Chatterbox by Keon Wong

Endless, corner-less scripture, their cracks
bending to an exorcism of 6 plains / planes
crashing into their doomed gravity,
like a child running into a mother’s arms;

few stand above the clouds but dolls
that spill like waterfalls
in a drought, drip by drip bittersweet.
The blocks of clouds are pillars of some Olympus

they told us about. Dangling snake, the shock
that puts us to sleep like soporific ivy, white.
The windows that peer from the basement,
an intrepid flame from hell

that grips passerby into its own ordeal;
saint, women, paper planes, they all sink
to the insatiable fullness of a future too big
to swallow. So they left it alone.

Endless, corner-less scripture, the canvas holding
my memories like Rorschach’s treasure crates
as I leapt in fear to heaven and crashed
into the foot of an abandoned attic.

Keon Wong

Hello, my name is Keon and I am a student from Hong Kong. I am currently studying A-level English literature, Photography, Law and Geography. They have been great sources of inspiration in seeing the world in a different angle and recording my ideas in poetry.

Poetry has gradually become my best outlet for my emotions during the uncertainty my hometown is enduring. It has also sharpened my skills in expression and thinking out of the box.

My other interests include photography, where I formulate my ideas in another experimental medium. I find it very therapeutic to observe and slowly record the changing world. I am also a huge fan of films and classic novels. I highly recommend them for growing your inner creativity as well as your world view.

Please visit my Instagram @mrfootlettucewrites for more of my upcoming work! I would love to hang out with you all!

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Vintage Love Song

Vintage Love Song

Vintage Love Song by Bidisha P. Kashyap

Dusty journals of happy lovers and treasured memories
Of shy coffee dates
“Sudden” meetups in the library
Of walks by the lake
And long drives admist the citylights
Stories of stolen glances during Philosophy lessons
And leaving of love notes by each other’s benches
Of grandma’s soft yet exotic fashion sense
To her stunning performances in school theatre plays
Grandpa’s cinema dates awaited every Friday
And the promises of meeting up for ice-cream treats every Sunday
Of playing-your-favourite-song-out-of-your-window apologies
And matching tattoos on their anniversary
From partners in crime to high school sweethearts
And promising promises to eternity

Old Polaroids lay scattered on my grandparent’s bed
As they reminisce their youth
I smile at my double texts which still remain unseen
Only if I had met you in the 70’s.

<strong>Bidisha P. Kashyap</strong>
Bidisha P. Kashyap

Bidisha is an poet from India, born and brought up in Guwahati, Assam. She is currently 18 years old and looking forward to pursuing her higher studies in the field of English literature.

Her hobbies include reading, writing, listening to music. Bidisha also loves to sketch and paint. Most of her Sundays are spent binge watching animes. For her, writing holds a important place in her heart by which she expresses her thoughts and feelings. 

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