Pen names are a beautiful thing. They are cocoons, allowing for the metamorphosis of a writer or poet. A writer either reveals their identity or they find solace in their cocoon. I know many talented poets whose identities are still a secret to me. Anonymity has its perks, and many writers become published this way. Not all paths lead to the same place. For those that want to be known, I have chosen to use my website to promote their work, along with my own.
Eve Poetry Magazine is an organic evolution of my great love to support and help others. I use my social media pages, both @eve_poetry and @evepoetrygroup to create inspiration and mentor others. Becoming a published author depends largely upon marketing. I use my skills in marketing to help bring light to beautiful poetry and writing.
Everyone has a story. People who share their written stories deserve to be seen and heard. This is the heart behind Eve Poetry Magazine.
steps crunch into snow
disrupting the silence of a world weighed down by cold
and exhaled frosty breath lingers in the air
like the icy ghost of a last kiss
before disappearing without a goodbye
Fortitude by Jaimee Boake
Rolled out like a welcome mat
I let you in without thinking-
didn’t realize that with each step you took/
I would shrink.
Now your footsteps are
etched like a tattoo along the memory of my spine/
and I’ve struggled to shrug
your weight off my shoulders
I am starting to straighten
on top of vertebrae on top of vertebrae
like the stones of a fortress wall
so you’ll never walk over me again.
Having long been fascinated with reading and writing of all forms, Jaimee Boake is a high school English Language Arts, Creative Writing, and Leadership teacher in Sherwood Park, Alberta.
When not working she loves playing sports and board games, hanging out with her dogs, spending time with family, and drinking lots of coffee.
She is happiest, always, in the mountains. More of her work can be found in Purple Fire Publications Write Connection Magazine. Instagram: @jaimeeannethology
Life gifted me many lemons, but I didn’t know what to do with them.
I don’t particularly like lemonade.
I thought, “I’ll give them to some friends,” and then had fewer, but the rest continue to hang in the basket
Cortni Merritt is a mom and entrepreneur living in Orlando, FL. She earned her M.A. in English literature and has served as an editor, ghostwriter, and book coach for 100+ fiction and nonfiction authors.
Her poetry has been featured in Bear Creek Haiku, Ariel Chart, Halcyon Days, and Former People, and she self-published her first collection of haiku and accompanying artwork, Slices of Silence, in 2019.
Cortni posts poetry and details of her writer’s journey on Instagram: @cortni.m.dreams.
maybe one day you’ll get in your car and never come back as this road finally takes you where you were supposed to be all along maybe one day you’ll get in your car all alone, but never lonely you’ll turn on the ignition and start driving without hesitation with no destination and no restriction just you and your car maybe you’ll make friends along the way maybe you’ll pick up some hitchhikers and who knows, maybe you’ll even find love in some stranger’s eyes but even if you’ll just stay on your own you will wake up one morning somewhere you’ve never been before where no one knows your name and you’ll feel free like you never have before you’ll find beauty in not belonging anywhere you’ll find happiness inside yourself again you’ll be that person, that you love so much but said goodbye to so many days and nights ago along the road you will find yourself again hidden somewhere between bushes and stones between the eyes of strangers and small villages you will find yourself standing in front of a dirty restroom mirror looking at a completely new person wild and free smiling despite the knots in her hair smiling, no matter what one day you’ll get in your car, and never look back
Flood, by Lina Heller
I can go days without thinking of you but then, out of nowhere my mind gets flooded with all these memories and pictures of you and no matter how high and how strong I build my walls eventually they’ll always cave
I’m 20 years old and from Germany. Currently, I‘m studying literature, art & media at university.
I’m music addicted, happy when it rains and I love photography.
Writing has always been my way of talking without having to open my mouth. It is my way of coping with reality; I guess. I hope, that someday I’ll get to publish my own poetry book. But until then I’ll fill page after page of my grey notebook.
but those tiny shreds
that I once had lost!
in your soul
And I found my peace.
The emotions settles within
A silhouette touch,
craving for your dark,
Your beats are my home.
I’m Rachita Praharaj, I belong to Odisha, India. I’m a student of Commerce and I’m 17.
Other than Writing I love to dance and read, I read a lot of web novels and poetry.
To me, writing is an escape, from this chaotic world to a place of my own, a place where my chaos finds peace. One day surely I would want to publish my poetry book, but not working in that yet.
My Instagram account is @the_closet_lines, I post all my words there!
If one night I was sitting in my bedroom by my lonesome Illuminated only by the glare of the moonlight With the weight of the world rested on my shoulders Squeezing tears out through the cracks of my eyelids You’d come over, right?
You’d rest your head between my chest and make melodies of my heartbeats as the moon gives in to the sunrise The clouds swallowing her whole and as the rain pours down today turns into yesterday There, I am under the pavilion thinking to myself You’d come over, right?
If my heart was in my hands and my soul bled through my chest You’d come over right? To stitch me up and make me whole again? Because if I’m going to be honest with you I can’t keep filling my cracks with gold because I’ll just be looked at as an object not a treasure Thieves will only try to take the valuable pieces that remain and leave me broken I don’t have enough left of me to keep hoping And all I ever do now is lie awake dreaming of feeling your warmth again Knitting our fingers through each other hands And with one blink it all disappears You’d come over, right?
If I called you late at night with no words on my lips The sound of dread in my breath waiting for your voice to pull me back down to earth I’ve never needed anyone Not before love anyway But now after heartbreak and heartache and headaches and long days My exhaustion became my existence I reminisce on a past that only brought blades to my skin I dream of a future that is out of reach yet I would rather tear myself limb from limb and build a bridge from my bones to get to you because in my mind I know that if I did that You’d come over... right?
Hello, it’s Christian! I’m originally from Long Island, NY but I currently live in Boca Raton, FL. I write poetry as a side hobby, along with my other hobby, acting (I’m a Theatre major at FAU).
Dear Best Friend, All that time we spent together Yet I wonder how I clicked with you You are the one to spoil me Yet people think I am the one who spoiled you You have lots of my ugly photos Just remember, so do I Now that we have our own ways Yet we make sure, that at some points our paths converge You are my mentor You are my friend You are my partner till our end
Dear Best Friend I remember the day I met you That day in the lab You walked straight towards me With a smile you greeted me From that day till now You are one of the best friends I have found No matter what time or day You always know how to make me laugh Even though we don’t meet as often But whenever you see me You still greet me with the same crazy smile For five years I have known you And I wish to know you till the day I die
Hi, my name is Alina Mirza. I am from India. Reading books and writing poems (only when inspiration strikes!) are the hobbies that I enjoy the most.
For me, writing gives words to my scattered thoughts. Writing along with two of my friends motivates me to do better, whether it is writing or any other activity. Together we created an Instagram account named “The Memory Cache” where we share our writings with the people.
A beautiful sight indeed Never seen such a thing This tender heart in my hand Has immeasurable compassion Loves everything and everyone It sees no wrong only right From it comes all kinds of light It’s a rare gem in this world
The scars I feel are many Scars on scars that won’t fade Each ripple brings a tear to my eye Who would do this to this heart Who should try to put out its light If only I stole it sooner Maybe I could have stopped it
I find a scar with my name on it How could I add to this hurt I want to take it away Maybe my love can fill it Make it fade away It’ll always be there with all the others I wish I could take all the hurt away
This heart still loves despite all the damage Making it shine that much brighter Maybe I can protect it Keep the scars from adding Keep the hurt away So that’s what I’ll do I’ll protect this heart and guard it Love it like it deserves Blanketing it every day No one dares hurt this heart I hold.
Jeremy is from Plant City, a small town in Florida outside Tampa where he works in contracting work, remodeling houses and custom interior work.
His faith plays a big part in his life. He’s on staff at a small local church.
His hobbies are things that include his kids, like sports. They like vintage and retro items, so they like to go to estate sales to hunt for treasures.
Jeremy started writing at 43 (so, for about a year and a half). He just started sharing his written work in December (2019). He’s becoming more serious about it as he discovers he has more to say. Maybe one day, he’ll put it in a book.
You can follow his work on Instagram: @Awokenwords
Letter from the City, written by Philip Chijioke Abonyi
Letter from the City
you know loneliness is my allergy.
I wither silently like flowers adorning a cemetery, when you are not here.
I waste away in the intestine of your memories together with my hookworms.
And each time I cry No one comes to dry the oceans in my eyes.
Somewhere in my head I hear insanity creaking.
For every minute my hyper-electrical blood, tense, takes me on a journey to the city
where with another man you eat the love you once saved in a bowl of glass for me.
You paint his lips with delicious kisses. Rolling back the tears to my eyes with tongs..
Let this sorrow emerging in my heart like a young seedling in the feces of pigs
be eaten by the caterpillar of your love. Love written with the ink dipped in your heart.
Wrapped with petals of roses send to me lines filled with moistened words of your mouth.
Let me read away the thirstiness of your absence. Let me be snug in the warmth of your words and come for salvation’s sake.
For with your little presence, there is always a breakthrough.
Philip Chijioke Abonyi
Philip Chijioke Abonyi is a poet/writer who hails from Akparata Ada Obollo-Etiti in Udenu Local Government Area of Enugu State, Nigeria. He is currently studying Science Laboratory Technology in Federal polytechnic Oko, Anambra state.
His poems appeared online on Aceworld and also in many anthologies including ABIKU/THIS IS NIGERIA, ADULTHOOD IS A SCAM and NATURE AND THOUGHTS anthology. He has many unpublished poetry and prose works, and he writes earnestly for he believes that we can write the world into a better place.
Apart from writing, he loves reading and listening to good music. He writes on Facebook under the name Philip C. Abonyi.
Drawn within nature’s art of divinity Written in words translated into a poetic Living dream through a breath-taking poetry Among all lies, even myths.. the only truth A heart carved with love, serenity, honesty, and loyalty The wish granted upon every shooting star the awaited chance, on every side of possibility Fallen from an old cast spell of magic My darling, you are a fairytale wandering into reality
As I’ve been writing with much love and passion, I’ve decided for my poetry to be devoted only to love and nature… and sure to be cheerful! I’m a 25-year-old Lebanese who is all up to writing and reading other’s amazing pieces too.
Check my growing dream-page on IG: @a_poeticdream I hope you all enjoy and fall for the love of my words.
I keep searching for you in all the things you left behind. In the Boars Head hat with the elastic completely worn. In your eyes right where the lights been torn. I’m numb and I think that means I’m forgetting.
I think that’s why I keep collecting your things. So I don’t forget your chair at the center of the table. That album filled to the brim with pictures and more importantly stories. But those words keep slipping through my grip. It keeps fading. The old phone charger in a hotel room in Jersey. Your wise cracks delivered in perfect time.
I will never be able to collect enough of you.
This is where you would tell me to look inside myself. In front of myself. To remember that I’ll be the reminder. A living memory. And not always a thing completely torn.
Hi! I am a 29-year-old from New York. I love people watching, being a movie fanatic and devouring romance novels when I’m not writing and/or forcing my friends to listen to it.
Writing has been a passion of mine from a young age and is often my easiest form of communicating. I began taking my writing more seriously after a few back to back episodes of anxiety and depression. I began journaling everyday, multiple times a day. It was my only way of not screaming.
The thought of people going through similar situations alone is what made me want to share my stories. I believe that’s why we are all here. Writing to me is the purest form of relatability.
If I can make one person feel less alone, I’ve done my job. My writing Instagram if you would like to follow my journey (and I would love to have you) is @tothelittleguys Also!
My most recent passion project with two of my friends is @longislandpoets. We hope to bring together all the beautifully talented poets of Long Island!