Do you look at all the patterns The taut lines, playful swirls and dots And the ways that they push and pull Curve loud, singing colors and knots The beats of hearts and sighs of souls All jumbled together laughing Tears leaking, dripping and salty Mix of caramels chocolate mashing Into mountains of happiness Gusting into the winds of change Your thinking loud and not mundane Lights of fancy with smells assuage A peace with sun inside your heart Wishes to be found and dance beats Rhythmically lilting a song Escapes from lungs breathing so deep
Denise is a registered nurse of 26 years. She’s a mother of two and lives in Texas. She has been writing off and on most of her life.
Denise is in the early stage of writing her first book but recently was part of her first anthology called Poetry Pills with PaperPensandPoetry.
Denise is a connoisseur of all things from the heart and soul. She is woman of strong faith and a believer in truth. Her hobbies include reading, music and drawing.
You can follow her work on Instagram: @nobullheart
Will you remember me? When the ones you thought you knew Leave you high and dry. When your shadows No longer stay by your side…
Will you miss me? On the difficult days and lonely nights When the fire stops burning so bright When things just don’t feel so right…
Will you reach for me? When your soul bleeds From the twisted knives and sweet lies, When you find out, that the fox had a sweet disguise. When your heart feels heavy, And you realise, that I was a diamond But you lost me for a few pennies
I am a law student from India. I have been writing since I was ten as a hobby, but it’s only recently that I started posting it online.
Other than that, I love reading books and watching shows and movies on Netflix.
So little of me Is what I leave Everywhere. Everywhere I go Like breadcrumbs I leave So little of me.
Everyone who knows Everyone, of me Like the grains of sand Know, so little of me.
Like the stars above They get to see The brighter side While I’m the whole Night sky.
Or like the dirt On their specs They get to see The darker side While I’m the whole Landscape in front.
So little they see Or sometimes None For I turn myself Like sugar in A glass of water.
They either see nothing Or see something Which I choose For them to see And to know.
So little of me… Little, little specks Of the star dust Of my being While I embody The universe inside Of me.
They see the girl Walking, talking laughing Crying, shouting trying They see the skin They see the cover That is something They judge me with.
Or with my gestures Or with my behavior Or with my attitude Or with my likes And dislikes They judge me With the So little they know. The so little I show.
I am Good Cool Mysterious Or Bad Cold Arrogant How foolish of them all To judge me With the so little they know.
While I’m the wide spread SEA SKY LAND GALAXY and much more Crashing waves And sending storms Which they would Never have imagined They judge me With the water that crashes Their shores Or with the breeze That fades away
So little they know. So little I chose to show.
I made my decision so For they all mean So little, so little. To know, This so little of me.
I am Reshmi Sadhana. I am from Salem, India and a student currently pursuing my Bachelor’s degree in Education. My hobbies include Reading, Singing, Gardening and Crafts work.
I have been writing since the age of 8. I’ve taken part in various Poetry Writing competitions at various levels and won prizes. I have written and published an ebook in Amazon that is available on Kindle. The title of my collection of poems is “Silhouette of her thoughts.”
I believe in love at first light She broke the very dawn with her smile A million constellations could be Mapped within her freckles I promise there were gold flecks buried Underneath her skin Causing her illumination The second she met my gaze I shed my shadows like a second skin And fell into her translucent mouth
Becca Faulkner is a small-town girl at heart, born in Fisher, Illinois (go bunnies!) She then relocated to Grove, Oklahoma when she was six, which is where she treasures all of her fondest memories, and looks forward to returning to the south one day to stay. Her family moved to Bloomington, Illinois when she was fifteen, where she has remained since.
She earned her bachelor’s degree in Theatre Studies at Illinois State University, where she was hugely impacted by the professors of her creative writing courses and whom she would like to offer thanks.
She now works as a Caseworker for the Department of Human Services, which has absolutely nothing to do with theatre or creative writing. However, she is deeply moved by many of the individuals she encounters daily and truly believes that empathy is the most overlooked attribute that can heavily impact society. Becca’s hobbies run the gamut from reading to weight-lifting, to anything tattoo-related, to designing her dream home off of Pinterest.
Most of all, she enjoys spending time with her three daughters, who continue to inspire her creativity and deepen her capacity for love and compassion and whose needs are the primary importance in Becca’s life.
She just started pursuing writing seriously this year and has promised herself to continue to practice her craft. It has always been high on her bucket list to get a book published, and she does not take her bucket list lightly. You can follow the progress of her writing on the Instagram account dedicated to her poetry submerging_violets.
Lost worlds do linger in the winter breeze Where all frozen nights long for what the seer sees Which is all that is seen in light of what new lovers do hold tight For the fresh lover’s sight that sees through the long frozen night Thaws all winter days and clears the fog with lost lover’s light
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.
I could always be found 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 very 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.
Oh Liberty, where have you been? For when I hear your voice, my freedom rings. Your all I ever dreamed, Bells and whistles you just might be my everything. Liberty, the value you obtain in such a name that carries a flame so bright. You shine amongst those that have never seen the light. A light so fluorescent that it glows more luminously than the moon at night. Picture perfect painted so vividly, one’s soul cannot be as pure as yours you see. Your joyful spirit and elegant class brings the best out of me that makes me want to last. Constantly reminding me you are not your past, your so much more than that. Speaking greatness into my existence, oh Liberty you’ve cured the soul, with you is whom I want to grow old. To be myself, to be free no restrictions just live happily. When the skies clear and your voice speaks, my heart warms and my smile stretches from cheek to cheek. Climbing.. wondering if you’re the one at the top of my peak. Making sure there is nothing fishy about this situation a predicament that flew by over time… airborne once I spoke it, had us both wondering why? Oh liberty, you’re so special that I speak the truth from depths of my heart. God took his time to mold you… you’re a work of art. This feeling is more than emotion, it’s a desire. A desire that I refuse to expire… imperishable. Driven to build… stay on track whether our purpose is thrown some distance or sprinting in the moment. Liberty let God guide our life, and life direct its course, so we won’t feel no remorse. I have prayed and visioned that one day my heart will be set free, from the chains that kept it confined that this pain and strife all had in purpose in me. But Once I found my liberty, she kept the key.
Robert Pillow IV
25 years old Writing poetry since 14 years old Born in Anchorage, Alaska
I’m a Palestinian woman As a child I used hate men and their fathers For I could see how they’ve been raised to look down on women For I could see how they were raised to feel pride in taking advantage of their wife’s vulnerable love to put her in place
Now I look at your father In twenty hundred being forced out of his own house in the middle of the night to clean the voice of resistance off the village walls A year later, walking home careful of looking suspicious Two years later, running to the mountains to hide just because everyone else is doing it Another year goes by and he’s being searched on checkpoints And I can see him always releasing a breath of relief once knowing you’re home.
I can see him inhaling a dosage of fear 20 times a minute. But there are 60 minutes in an hour. And 24 hours a day. And 365 days a year. So I do not hate you anymore I understand I see it now But I don’t support it I, instead, support you So count on me I’ll make you feel I’ll make you let it all out I’ll make you let go of that demon I’ll let you live Smile and cry And I will not tell a soul No enemy should know Only us and the dark night sky
Noor Alzaghal is a 19-year-old Palestinian young woman with a burning passion for arts of all sorts. She is mainly a writer of poetry and fiction, but she also likes to dip her fingers into some photography and drama from time to time. Although unpublished, she is in the process of writing a novel as well as publishing a collection of poems hopefully soon.
At the moment, she is a full time English Language and Literature student at An-Najah National University, and she is the founder of Englitopia; A Creative Writing and Drama Group, which aims to provide a safe space for students to find and express themselves through art.
You can find her on Instagram where she shares most of her work.
In her mind, they became metaphors and similes, moon children and night dancers.
Daydreaming by Marie-Kristin Hofmann
She loves her lonely moments the silence away from the crowds when it’s just her daydreaming.
Marie just finished her master studies in intercultural communication and is now starting a position as an event manager in Berlin, Germany.
As an avid reader and writer, she has always had an enthusiasm for words. Right now, writing poetry is a hobby for her, but being a mind wanderer and daydreamer, she hopes to publish her own poetry collection one day.
Marie draws a lot of inspiration for her poetry from her solo travels to places all over the world, such as Alaska, Myanmar, or Greece. With her poems, she wants her readers to rediscover the magic in the mundane.
I saw you today, again, with her laughing your heart out, looking at her with those heartwarming brown eyes of yours filled with love and adoration like you used to look at me. You put your head in her lap adjusting to your comfort as she played with your hair giggling and snorting at your dumb jokes, just like I used to beg you to stop with those. You placed your hand on her cheek and she leaned into your palm just like I used to do before you sneakingly pulled me in for a tickling session. But, God knows, for what unfortunate reason, you turned today, looking at me as our eyes met, you tried to reach me only to be met by disappointment as your hand waved in the thin air. I saw the realisation dawn upon you as you curled up into her lap, like a baby, hugging her tight and begging her not to leave you.
I know you loved me. Trust me, I love you too, more than I loved life itself. But, for now, Let’s pretend that we were perfect Let’s pretend that I didn’t leave you alone to handle it all Let’s pretend that the world is a happy place to live in And most importantly, Let’s pretend as if we are not pretending.
Harlotry by Mansi Jain
With features so intricate, A heart so delicate. How badly she dreamt, Of mastering her own fate.
Those painfully dead eyes set in a stare, Silently begging someone to care. Those unknown hands mauling her body so bare, Her life had turned into such a dirty affair.
Those silent screams, And brutally crushed dreams. Her hands clenched in fists, As her pain fed those beasts.
Broken toys and fuckboys, Might have incurred smaller pains. Rather than clouds of harlotry- Giving away herself in unknown lanes.
Bearing the scars so deeply-inflicted, Against the society, her soul always conflicted. But now left with no chance of revival, She wiped out her anguished survival.
Mansi Jain is a student at the University of Delhi pursuing Bachelors of Commerce. Her work has been published in a couple of anthologies, namely, “The Golden Word” and “A Cup of Quotes” and is set to be published in “I Have a Crush On You”.
After going through numerous bouts of writers’ block, she is finally writing her block out and also aspires to write her own novels one day.
Mansi describes herself as a love child of a million terrible decisions and failed diets. You can find her work on her Instagram handle, @insaneheadcase_ .
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She’s a bougainvillea. Like the lush green valleys Like a rainbow of colours. Full of maroons and pinks. Of oranges, magenta and reds And of the opaque whites. She’s a bougainvillea. So aware of its roots. Yet flowing all so tall. Around the roof and wall. Peeping through the gates Of the cottage and houses.
She’s a bougainvillea. That’s lingering so many. From the caged balcony where you set her safe lines. But doesn’t belong to anywhere that doesn’t let her be free.
She’s a bougainvillea. Like it doesn’t stop growing. Everywhere, wild in serenity Ever so travelling in the vicinity From nowhere to everywhere, a bunch of vibes irresistible.
She’s a bougainvillea. She stares at you uphills. From the open window sills. She hangs around you from the shy, lonely vintage corridors. and makes you home all the time.
She’s a bougainvillea. She belongs to the infinite sky. She belongs to the earth shy. She’s wildly growing every time. She’s calmly kept in surreal hues. She lights up faces of all around.
She’s a bougainvillea. She’s an angel of hope. She’s a soul lit on cope. She knows no destination. She believes in journeys. that knows no boundaries.
She’s a bougainvillea. She belongs not to a person. She belongs not to a place. She belongs to everyone, and to everything. And she’s a bougainvillea everywhere.
To My Green Teas and Your Black Coffees by Sonali Gupta
Every time you pick up a cup of black coffee and I pick up a cup of green tea, they somehow miss being like each other, and they somewhere want to be like each other. Being kept together on the same table yet not wanting to be together on the same table, They’ve somehow started looking forward to each other’s presence. It’s been few weeks since we’ve been talking so much We’ve been looking around and settling at each other. It’s been weeks, I’ve been staring at you. You’ve been staring at the staring me. I see my eyes looking into your eyes. And your eyes are already looking into mine with a mystery.
You often say there’s so much magic to my eyes and there’s everything just so blank in yours. But it’s now that I can tell you; the fire in my eyes fall for the cold in your eyes. Every day. Every time. At each glance. Even now. When you aren’t around looking at me. I try to ignore the glimpse of my eyes meeting your eyes every now and then. It’s been weeks and a few hours more that we’ve been talking and knowing and wanting us not to be alone still not be together.
I ask you often if you are done with your lunch so that we can meet sometime later and whenever you say that you’re done, I like to pick up those toffees for you, which you happen to gulp in right in front of me, trying to be an inch sweeter and sweetest with every candy you take inside.
I know you’re a little more happy these days. I want you to be so much more. Not for you, but for me. Haven’t I told you, that each time your lips hesitate to smile looking at my already appearing smile, you look just so lovely. And each time those dimples try to peep out from your subtle deep cheeks, the blushy chaos from my cheeks force my dimples to sync in with you and they twin together with the twinkle in our eyes.
A few more days and I see you trying those tea bags in the cafeteria. And I feel my green tea turning a little more not-so-bitter nowadays. I never said this to you, but my green teas and your black coffee are happy together. These days. On the same table!
Sonali is a technical content writer from India, who writes expert resource materials related to the Marketing and Technology. Previously worked as a banker and a freelance blogger, she has been a student of Economics and Human Resources.
An ardent believer of Universe and optimism, she writes poetry and quotes to satiate her soul and souls around. Always keen about nature, travelling, music and photography. She’s often found talking about self love, love, life, motivation and philosophy.
She likes to say it all in hashtags and loves to be read between the lines. She’s one passionate being who lives to keep her vibe alive and stay in love with life.