Deanna Ramirez transformed her personal blog into a literary magazine – a format that enables her to promote other writers. Writers who need and want exposure to their work: poems, short story, or article.
Writers measure success on many things. For those actively pursuing writing careers and writers with goals of publishing; exposure is everything. This Poetry Magazine will add another exposure layer to your work.
Deanna began promoting writers and their poems in January 2019. After watching talented writers struggle under the shadow of the social media algorithm, she used her experience to help.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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!
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.