Loving Love

Loving Love by Loud Mouth Insane Mind

I wish I could do something,
But loving love wasn’t
as easy as loving someone,

It had to be carefully done,
love was weak-hearted,
one anger stroke
and ways, it parted

a little hate snow
could cause an avalanche
because baby love isn’t someone
with whom you can play around,

and a little ignorance axe
can cut love’s whole branch,
so this time I let love leave,
but someday in my life, I believe,
love will return.

<strong>Louthmouth Insanemind</strong>
Louthmouth Insanemind

Hi guys, I am Tanvi. I am a 15-year-old student from India and I’ve recently discovered the writer side of mine. Writing helps me believe that if freedom can be found with beautiful poetry, then it can definitely be found in real life!

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Scars

Scars by Avalone Rae

I gave myself scars by loving you,
Your skeptic waves washed over my shore,
Where I played for years and years,
You planted seeds of doubt,
Deep into the corners of my mind,
As I walked like a ghost in the background,
Always fading away into the crowd,
Afraid of having the spotlight on me,
Afraid of someone picking apart my flaws,
So I went to bed at nights,
Thinking I was so flawed,
Nobody could love me,
Because on most days,
All I felt was your coldness,
Cutting my self worth into shreds,
As I silently withdrew into my shell,
Hurting, swallowing your words,
Into the deepest parts of my mind,
That I am flawed and unlovable.

But in all my years with you,
I never knew love this hard,
When I can stand in front of the mirror,
Count all my scars and smile,
And I promise this time,
I won’t pick on my scars again,
I won’t let them bleed,
Because now,
I know I love myself so tenderly,
None of my lovers never could,
Someday there may be somebody,
Who could love me the way I do,
Who could love who they are like I do now,
Until then,
This is me and my scars.

<strong>Avalone Rae</strong>
Avalone Rae

I’m 21 and currently pursuing an education in the medical field. 

There’s nothing I love more than reading and writing.  Writing allows me to dive deep into my inner self and understand it in a way like a fog being cleared up in my head. It’s helped me become emotionally and mentally healthy as a person.

I find that words have so much power—they can heal you or break you. So I use writing as a way to heal my inner wounds and I also hope to help people out with theirs through my writing. 

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Freedom to Tell My Truth

Freedom to Tell My Truth by Marcy Martinez

Freedom to tell my truth

With it I will change laws

I will make a difference in our justice system

I will expose its family court flaws

Judges not wanted

I write what I feel in words that are real

Only those who read with no judgment are wanted,

Cause I’m free to express every feeling and every word.

Freedom is great

What I choose to express,

You either do or can’t relate.

Judgment sometimes happens

But who cares, this is why freedom is great!

<strong>Marcy Martinez</strong>
Marcy Martinez

My name is Marcy Martinez and I’m from Los Angeles, CA.
I have over twenty-five years of writings in journals I kept to process my feelings. 

Never did I imagine sharing it with the world.
But I took that step in October 2019 to start my writing journey.

I want to go beyond sharing my poetry and write books.
I believe it’s never too late to start working on a dream or to achieve it.

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Inclination

Inclination by Aanya J.

INSIDE my head all these thoughts I hide
inside my mind all these lies I design
telling myself this is the way of the world
it’s the way it’s been for generations
who are you
to question all
who are you
to break away to forge a path
don’t you know you will be pulled back
doctrine into the same regime
until your mind is brainwashed
to follow the cue like a human puppet
Still, the need to rebel lingers in my heart
with a smile on my face
I let the tendrils develop
until a time I can really break free
and be ME

<strong>Aanya J.</strong>
Aanya J.

Mum of four… juggling kids…husband ….life and trying to be fair to me.

Living in the Middle East, I’ve been writing since I was a teen but stopped for a while because I was caught up with everything else happening around me. Now slowly getting back to it bit by bit.
While I am not busy with kids, I am either writing, reading, or binge watching Netflix.

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Storms and Magic

An excerpt from Storms and Magic by Enitan Victoria Ige

I think you will remember today
the way you so strongly disagree that we will end,
eventually.

and I’m wishing I will be there to say it,
past the electricity we created
when our lips merged
and our eyes closed.
I told you.
you would leave
I told you we never know tomorrow, and that love is tragedy we simply can’t avoid.
I think you would also remember the magic we made so many evenings when the world around us shook her head in disapproval.
judgement.
I wish I’ll be there to point it all out the way I want to right now.
you will find the People always tend to be right.
we could go about our loving in public not giving a f*ck what they think, but they would witness our crash.

Love is a tragedy we simply can’t avoid.
and I’ll be at the shawarma joint,
then you’ll walk by with the new love of your life;
fingers woven into each others’
and I would want to tell you-
holding your face with both my hands like I used to-

I told you. Didn’t I?
you would leave.
It’s a tragedy we can’t avoid.

<strong>Enitan Victoria Ige</strong>
Enitan Victoria Ige

Enitan Ige is a poet, feminist and mental health advocate living in Nigeria. She’s the author of the poetry collection, Storms and Magic, that revolves its theme around love, heartbreak, feminism, self-discovery and self love. 
A lover of a good mug of choco-malt, you may often find her scrolling through Instagram or reading a new book.
IG: @eniitani
Twitter: @eniitani 

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The Song of a Grateful Soul

The Song of a Grateful Soul by Daisy Davis

What more is my life but a journey!
A journey back to You, the One who made me.
Through the countless doors of my worldly being,
With arms stretched out, my soul breaks out! Oh, ever so freeing!

Many tears You shed, Your loving heart bled,
As I wandered off, wading into the trench.
Yet back to you, fled my parched soul to quench
This thirst, insatiable. In Your mercy, I drenched!

Though I ventured into lands far and unknown,
Your voice reached out, rising over my own.
Through the mist of my thoughts, vain and worn,
Your light sought my soul, beyond skin and bone.

Thank You enough, I never truly can,
For Your mercy on me, and all that You planned.
Where would I be, if it weren’t for Your hand
Lifting me up, making sure I could stand!

It is at Your feet, I deserve to be.
Yet here You are, watching over me,
Calling me Your own, gently soothing me.
Worthy of such love – can I ever be?

Oh! What more is my life but a hymn, a song!
A song of love, of where I truly belong.
Plucking the strings of my heart, all day long,
My soul hums on and on, how could I not!

I shall forever dance to the rhythm of Your love,
Embrace Your gift, I’m much unworthy of,
Spread this peace and calm, this joy, so buoyant!
For what more is my life, but that it is Yours!

<strong>Daisy Davis</strong>
Daisy Davis

Besides working as a Solutions Architect at Akamai for Media clients like NBC, Disney, HBO, etc., Daisy aspires to be a writer and ardently desires to read as many books as possible. Her life is deeply rooted in faith and prayer. She is extremely passionate about Bharatnatyam (an Indian classical dance form) and cannot imagine a life without music!

She also loves drawing, traveling, trying out new things, exploring different cultures and cuisines, non-profit volunteering, cooking and playing badminton. 

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Reapers

Reapers

Reapers by Teodor Nihtianov

Reapers

Aren’t her eyes
like a faded picture.
An old soul
in a young creature.

Dresses like her favorite singer.
Eyebrows frayed at the edge.
Tongue like a bee’s stinger.

And in this dream
we float forever.
Thinking we are both
so clever.

<strong>Teodor Nihtianov</strong>
Teodor Nihtianov

28-year-old Bulgarian living in Philadelphia. Writing has been the most consistent hobby in my life.

I like to keep things as simple as possible in terms of the words I write, the words I read and the things I do.

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E’er Do I Dwell

E’er Do I Dwell by Michael Dreher

E’er do I dwell ‘neath yawning sun
When young we were, to antic run
A frolic through the scratching grass
And barley sway in our trespass,
To lie frames lithe aside the lake
That glinted churn’d by thrashing drake,
Where dripp’d and darted dragonflies
The rippl’d glass to scrutinise
Refracted flutt’ring Admiral
Aside the lucent bursts of wool
That ache the bough of old-man’s-beard.
These moments now are disappeared
As in our paths did yearning tides
To sep’rate dest’nies cleave our strides.
But e’er, beneath the willow bower
That drips to banks some solemn hour,
Do you think of those free days
When, by the stream with hearts ablaze,
We loved, and lived as lovers do
Beneath the endless welkin blue?
In the dawnburst flutt’ring streams
Of slate-grey half-awaking dreams,
Does my face to mem’ry tumble
As some distant joyous rumble?
Do you e’er with morning dew
Think of me as I oft do you?

<strong>Michael Dreher</strong>
Michael Dreher

Michael Dreher is a poet and short story writer from England. He has self-published two poetry collections: Fazakerley Sickbeds (2019) and Bloombursts Liminal (2020), and will publish a novella and a short story collection later this year. 

Dreher was grown from a thresh of words in the Leicestershire countryside, and then tarnished with an arts degree and a rattle of heartbeats in Liverpool, where he lives to this day.

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No Direction Home

No Direction Home by Riya Sharma

No direction home

We were in my favorite record shop
and a Bob Dylan classic was playing
when you said,
I’m like that song you knew you’d like
before even hearing it.
We later put neon bands around our
wrists, attended crowded concerts,
consumed free slurpies and danced
to the bands we didn’t know the name of.
You pretended to like my dance moves
and I acted like I didn’t notice your eyes
on me the whole time.
We grabbed hamburgers and argued
if human misery were to take up space
would this world be big enough to store it.
Spoiler alert, it won’t.

You practically had to kiss me when I
couldn’t stop blabbering about how
holding a paintbrush in-between your
fingers felt more beautiful than holding
a half-lit Marlboro.
I’m glad I noticed that nicotine patch
on your left arm.
Your eyes resemble one of the many
marbles I owned as a child.
Maybe that’s why my mom thinks I’m
obsessed with you.
We spent the rest of the night quoting Tolstoy
and Dostoevsky
under a streetlight that kept flickering
like it’s doing that
on purpose.
But neither of us were in a hurry, were we?

That record shop at the end of the street
has been shut down
and I’m too old for concerts now.
Your Instagram feed with your lover
is so much prettier than the old
Polaroids I have of us stored in the attic.
How could I have ruined something that
was so meant to be.
Maybe even the best of songs
ultimately just end.

<strong>Riya Sharma</strong>
Riya Sharma

I’m Riya and I’m 20 years old. I believe we’re all poems, with stories of our own. I exist in metaphors and laugh in rhyme schemes, which is to say I’ve a really weird laugh.

I love creating art and I’d love to read all the books ever written on this planet, basically I want to live forever, haha.

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Melanin Mama’s

Melanin Mama’s by Lourd.knows

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.

<strong>Lourd.knows</strong>
Lourd.knows

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.

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