Poetry by Alicia Thompson

Eleanor by Alicia Thompson

Hair woven tightly knit,
Stretching the corners of the lenses,
Brown polka dots,
On the bridge above the white picket fence smile.

Body taunt, upright,
Arms reaching out and extending tight,
Tummy tucked, breath in,
Skirt flittering at the bottom of the rim.

Pointed toes, angular and rigid,
Foot flexed, legs strong,
At attention the parts are ready,
For the sweetness of the song.

Notes flutter through the air,
Striking out and inspiring the motion,
Head high, body bound,
Fair hair bounces up at the notion.

Floating through the sky,
The skirt abounds unlimited in flight,
The strength is freed into the light,
As the smile is suspended in height.

Her inner steel weighs nothing down,
It makes her apt to launch above the crowd,
Unfettered and suspended above,
Defying physics, my metal dove.

Untethered by Alicia Thompson

The vessel floats next to the dock,
A rope haphazardly connecting the two,
Waters touching the bow and pile,
All seemingly separate, yet the same too.

The sailboat begins to rock and hit up against the dock,
Bumping and now bruised the bow and the pile,
Tides lapping on the side,
Causing the clash of elements that will not subside.

The haphazard rope that now seems like an afterthought,
Has no chance at resolving the dispute,
As the sideboard crashes into the dock,
Binding, frayed and worn, gives irresolute.

The boat tithers to and fro,
Hanging low, the mast leans towards the waves,
Nothing and no one guiding the way,
Cast into the disheveled and roaring waters.

The rope drags behind flailing about,
It reaches and screams for the piles in the distance,
Unanchored and adrift, serving no particular purpose,
A failure from the outset, no chance to begin with.

But then the rope’s knot is lodged in the rocks, 
Catching a break that could not have been foreseen,
Now wrought, the vessel standing at attention,
Swinging and swaying, tethered again.

The jagged black rock,
Connected to the distant fray,
Mast, pile, rope, and dock,
All seemingly separate, yet proven the same.
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About the Author

Alicia E. Thompson



Born and raised in Pennsylvania, I spent most of my childhood playing in the woods and the fields surrounding my home with my neighbors, siblings, and my cousins.  When I was a sophomore in high school, I moved to Columbia, South Carolina and was introduced to a new life in the South. Although I traveled back to my home state of Pennsylvania to pursue a degree in History at Penn State University and later to New Orleans, Louisiana to attend Tulane University Law School, I landed in the low country of South Carolina to be closer to my extended family.  Myrtle Beach is now home; I am a partner at a southeastern based law firm where I focus on real estate matters, I am married to my husband Greg, and we have 3 children.  

Poetry in a new outlet for me.  While juggling motherhood and practicing law for the past 12 years, I prioritized work and family above self.  Struggling with the daily grind and trying to find quiet time, writing poems helps me tune into the outer world and to be present and grateful for the everyday life.  My poems focus on my children, nature, coping with work stress, and my travels. Eleanor is about my 5-year-old daughter who is enamored with ballet.  Her strong will juxtaposes her ability to glide through life, like the juxtaposition of the strength and grace of a ballerina. In my spare time, I enjoy the beautiful South Carolina coast, yoga and meditation, organizing a book club with other professional women, and spending time with my family.

 You can follow me on Instagram at @aethompso and on AllPoetry.com @EleanorT.

Alicia Thompson, Poet. With her family.
Alicia and her family.

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Glass Girl by Amber Jasinski

Chapter 1

Girl of glass has a heart that beats so softly it doesn’t make a sound
She swells with each breath but becomes more fragile 
She swallows her feelings and they slip into the hollow shell of her
Girl of glass stands still in a crowded room, too easy to break to risk moving
She stares with doll eyes watching as people look right through her 
She feels full of emptiness and shatters 
Girl of glass is swept under the rug
She has no worth if she can’t hold things 
She is too many sharp pieces to risk stepping on

Chapter 2

Her mind jagged shards with a sharp tongue 
Her body a one-way mirror 
She sees out, and no one sees in 
Twisted thoughts carving deep cracks
Lining them with gold only makes her more beautiful 
That’s why...
They love her so much more broken. 
Breaths as fragile as blown glass
Heavy heart beats in a hollow chest
Her sadness echoes deep within her
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About the Poet

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, three daughters, two young grandchildren, her younger brother, and two 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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Lost at Sea

Lost at Sea

By Deanna Ramirez

It is though in those years⠀
I was lost at sea⠀

Longed hard for love’s arms ⠀
to wrap warmth around me⠀

Instead glacial glares ⠀
Frost dealt cold as ice⠀

Left to tread frigid dread⠀
Just so you would play nice

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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 

Forgiveness

Forgiveness takes time
Forgiveness is not black and white⠀
For layers peel back in their time ⠀
A placid beast of delicate skins⠀
expose deep lesions ⠀
Wounds cannot forgive ⠀
Their sting stirs memory⠀
Only time can heal⠀
Never to forget ⠀

By Deanna Ramirez ©

The Little Shed

The little shed is painted blue
with two old chairs for me and you
We sit and talk till stars shine high
Discuss wild dreams and sometimes cry
The shed is dark and meant for tools
but staged just right for dreaming fools
One day we'll laugh and reminisce
Having checked off goals from
our shed dream list

Dedicated to my honey. ❤
-Deanna Ramirez ©

Equalizer

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 ©
Photo by Chelsi Peter on Pexels.com

The Price of Progress

Sun rises over the city
Tired people in robotic motion
to survive employment
Daily excavation of already 
empty voids
Filling fridges with grass fed meat
Paying mortgages that enslave them
Windows down feels like freedom
Absorbing luscious sky
Commuting in rows of all wheel drive
Ruminations of what they'll miss today
Bittersweet sunrise spectacle
Distant dreams fading
engulfed by reality 
of office murmurs and fluorescent light
To do it all again tomorrow

-Deanna Ramirez ©

Her Name Means Life

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

Written for my eldest daughter, with love.
-Deanna M Ramirez ©
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Book Review – Where the Crawdads Sing

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I just finished Where the Crawdads Sing last week, and I have been missing Kya ever since. Beautifully, succinctly penned. Delia Owens made me fall in love with the North Carolina marsh and wild life. I love how she weaved her scientific knowledge of environment, creatures-especially birds, and flora into the story in such a way that it breathed life into it. The marsh and wild life became part of Kya. It was her home, and truly took on it’s own role throughout the story. I grew fond of the other characters too- Jumpin had my heart. I wished for Kya to move in and live with Jumpin and Mabel, though I accept that Delia Owens could not write this compelling story with that outcome.

I highly recommend this book! I’d let you borrow mine, but I’ve already loaned my copy to my sister in law. GREAT read!
If you prefer audio – I can attest that the unabridged audio version is excellent!



View all my reviews