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.
She with skin the color of love Her, the one who’s been chosen by the sun Lips of plum Warrior tongue With a complexion that tells a story of where we all came from Woman of fire Because She can take and create the heat Brown baby Thankful to a lady that wouldn’t give up her seat Yes, Rosa parks to spark up the convo And Audre Lorde knew before her “your silence won’t protect you” let this ignite your soul Ida B Wells said, “the way to right wrongs is to turn the light of truth upon it.” Be bold Shine bright Live in your roots Galvanize them so no one can claim they are colorblind anymore you see me? This is the color of love The color of strength The color of brave Our shades differ But we are one And the sun knows it so our skin glows with it.
I am a writer/poet, a native New Yorker who resides in Pennsylvania. My writing focuses on my life experiences with racism, discrimination, sexual harassment, addiction, love, loss, self-discovery and motherhood.
Follow my poetic journey on Instagram(@lourd.knows), for “taboo” topics.
In my piece, Melanin Mama’s, read the way I rhythmically talk about the beauty of women of color and the importance of our voices. The poems I write are what I consider poetic justice stories.
I hope to continue writing and maybe publish a poetry book. We shall see what the universe has in store for me.
a red rose drops its petals a yellow birch loses its leaves a baby bird leaves the only home it knows —the sun still rises
I spend the day under white cotton sheets I let the shadows stay in my room I decorate my vanity with decayed petals —the sun still rose
can I be this unfazed?
My name is Berly a 23-year old Puerto Rican poet raised in New Jersey and now call Massachusetts home. I am a libra sun and in graduate school pursuing an MA in Public Policy and Administration.
I began writing intently in 2019 and started my poetry account about two months ago after deciding that I wanted my words to exist some place besides my notes app. Writing has been a way for me to bring whatever brews inside my chest forward in the hopes that it will free me, in essence, I write to free myself.
I have enjoyed writing every day and a lot of my poems center around unpacking trauma, love, endings, beginnings, nature, sexuality, and relationships.
Besides writing I enjoy reading poetry (my favorite poets are Nayyirah Waheed, Olivia Gatwood, Rupi Kaur, Mary Oliver, & Blythe Baird), journaling, shopping, sitting under the sun, and trying to find the best strawberry lemonade.
I hope to continue writing and maybe publish a poetry book. We shall see what the universe has in store for me.
Behind the Shadows of Freedom by Marie Anais Tessa L’Etang
Behind the shadows of freedom
Vandalism as some might say Free gallery of expression to others These art works on the walls Each screaming something Only a few can feel
In the shadows of equality Many are victims because of their religion, colour and gender Humans treated as objects to rapers and human traffickers Slavery still lingering in the dark
Many risking their lives simply to get their message to the world A message to expose what they are going through A message in hope of saving those in the future A message for others to finally be able to build up courage and stand up for their lives
While some are hiding behind screens trying to express themselves Others are cutting themselves Seen as a suicide mission to some But as relief to others
Everyone has their own way of expressing themselves But not all are understood or even heard Many go unnoticed Stuck in the dark Left in the shadows of this free world
Screams, tears, tantrums and silence Each yelling something Wanting to be heard Yet, no matter how loud or silent we seem to be We are never noticed nor healed
It is our right to be free to show who we truly are And we are criticized because of our religion Restricted by our gender or colour
Petitions right and left Many joining the fight In hope of change and acceptance In hope of being noticed Still not much is done to help
Violence taking over Victims are the only ones noticed what about the victimizers, they were once victims, but no one noticed They are screaming for help through these acts no one bothers to hear them out
Many unable to express themselves freely Wrote their hearts out on paper While they hang from the ceiling Only to stop the hurt At least they will be heard and noticed now
Marie Anais Tessa L’Etang
I am a Mauritian who loves to write. Writing poems has been an important part of my life since very little. I usually just write on paper or in my notebook and only allow some people to read them but I am trying to get rid of that timid side and break free starting with eve poetry and now an Instagram page @words.on.sleeve.
In every cradle and every note of Leon Bridges spinning.
Coming Home, do you recall it? Our candied summer. In London
bedrooms. Sweat on my brow as we made love. I see cherry-blossom
float through my open window.
Poetry was never on my radar as a kid, but now I seem to find some form of expression and peace in writing. I do so from North Leeds, UK and its leafy-green suburbs. I nestle somewhere between the bustling student bars and a slightly more distinguished commuter-belt. Perhaps there’s something of myself in that.
I can be found on @atari_poetry on Instagram, where I post my other work if you feel so inclined to stop on by.
I’m lost in my own world In my own scars With my own hallucinations
Lost in my soul That no more sighs In my strength through
Lost is my heart That no longer beats The same way it was
Lost are my words In my scars In my flaws
I am lost In my own words I own
Aafia Muhammad Amin
Aafia Muhammad Amin is a born Writer, an emerging Artist, pursuing Pharm-D.
She wrote her first poem when she was 10 but started her writing carrier 4 years ago. She started writing in her National language ( Urdu), competed in some contests and the results resulted in this pen power. She then tried to write in English too and gained much confidence.
Her inspiration is the world around, broken dreams, physical and mental sufferings and the silent struggle one bears. She believes that they are the words that can treat one, make one and break one.
Why You Should Never Stop Being an Artist by Sarba Roy
Eventually, As life goes on, A lot of terrific artists stop creating art, Life takes a toll on them, How can you write a poem, Or create a piece of music, When you have a presentation to make, Or a sick child by your side, Or you simply are tired with the race, And the drama of life. But you know what, The only way to stay truly alive, In this depressing world, Is to do things once in a while, That liberate you, From the self-imposed prisons, Of society, situations and your own mind. Never stop creating art, No matter what. A life filled with art and adventure will eventually, Set you free, A juicy creative life, Will become your precious legacy, It will inspire starry-eyed teenagers, And hopeless adults alike, To invest themselves, In the pursuit of art, In the things that make them feel alive, Above all, A life filled with art, Will be your best birthday present, You would gift yourself, On your eightieth birthday. So, don’t give up on yourself, Or your art, Not yet, Not just yet.
Sarba loves poetry, she reads it, breathes it, and scribbles it on the last pages of random notebooks. She wants to use her voice to make a positive impact in the world, no matter how small.
She loves candles, dream catchers, books, and rainbows in no particular order. She currently lives in Hillsboro, Oregon, with her best friend who also happens to be her husband.
Hearing your struggles hurts my soul If only you knew how many times I was a tv to someone’s remote control They make moves based on their opinions not knowing they ripping the uniqueness that you hold
Right out your great soul The channels they switch you to leave scars in your heart That can’t be erased with a simple apology No, it’s not that easy These scars fill pages And pages of this notebook
These scars robbed me of my time and I can’t call the cops for these crooks I wish you weren’t a replica of me I wish you would stand up for me I meant you
Why oh why are you like me? I feel like I’m looking in the mirror when I hear you speak It starts with you holding those words you so wish you can say behind your teeth
Then you can’t sleep Because your eyes are so drippy Then you start looking in the mirror wishing and hoping that you weren’t you That you were raised somewhere else That these emotions weren’t something you felt Then you start grabbing weapons And trying to leave your body bloody in the same bed you slept in
Thoughts begin to creep in Like if I do it my body will be left in this bed But in heaven, my soul will be free Those very thoughts still reserve space in my head Don’t be like me Be better Please
K. Exum is a shy poet with a love for fashion. His poetry comes from the problems he faces going through depression. Most of his poetry is based on pain. That can be boring to some but is relatable to others. If there’s any message to be received from his pain poems is that he wants you to learn from his mistakes.
On other days K enjoys writing on his blog Pieces Of K Blog and recording spoken word songs. His love for creating takes over his life.
You can follow his Instagram below. K posts mainly spoken word videos and pictures of himself. So if interested give him a follow and I’m sure he’ll return the favor.
to handcraft the virgin wool embroidered into an unique
pattern of solace and vehemence,
laced with a soothing touch of
unbridled loyalty. Which can
only be described as the
white mulberry’s cocoon,
as the finest of silks form
from the metamorphosis of a being.
Growth by Kai Lazarus
Growth is not
with new names.
Or reminiscing with the background of rain,
watching it all go down the drain.
It’s getting crippled by the pain
while still loving to play the game.
Religious Texts by Kai Lazarus
I pray to the goddesses that sacrificed their sanity for mine
Even if that useless dream was futile,
much obliged. Through our trials my obedience was abolished.
Survivors remorse does breed a new sense of Stockholm’s syndrome, but subservience isn’t desired around these parts anymore.
My vulnerability is something I gift willingly and openly.
No more a hidden fetish I give up in the dark,
it is my grand showcase.
Kai Lazarus (the medøchï)
the medøchï is the healing spirit of Kai Lazarus Antoine. Who was constructed through therapy, meditation and artistic creation, to mend a broken soul.
Now after obtaining that goal, the medøchï has taken on the task of growing to a status similar to where the name was derived from, the Medici family. All to be able to be the benefactor of many artists and innovators, while creating a haven for the creatives, the broken and the unheard.