In the rubble of my memories... As I searched thru the dust filled corners of my mind I found a remnant of you... What was left of our torrid love affair. How our passion burned so hot... Now the remains are only ashes And each day that passes... I leave the remains of us farther behind.
Blissful Love
By Karen Blunt
I wish to dwell forever in the pantheon of your love. To bask in the glorious feel of your touch. To drink in the sweetness of your kiss... Forever lost in this blissful affair.
About the Poet
Karen Blunt lives in Arizona. She is 62 years young and single. She currently lives with her daughter and her family. She is a retired chef and still love to cook, but only cooks for her family. She is an amateur photographer and often uses her own photos as background for her poems. Karen is an avid reader and hopes to publish her own book in the future. She has not yet published anything, but has written a few short stories when she was younger. You can find Karen on Instagram: @blunt.karen.
Darkness is not an easy thing to escape It's an endless abyss A mysterious, foreboding void of nothingness A tempting place to hide The darkness can be a friend When it wraps you up in its black sheets And keeps you oblivious And blocks all the pain But its comfort is a lie The darkness will betray you It will leave you cold and exposed It will change you When it's gone, all you have left are threads Threads from its once comforting sheets Threads that hold your sanity But the threads are never that many All you can do is cling to these threads And hope to find more Because these threads will be your only escape That is, if your lucky
About the Poet
Natasha Okwuchi
Natasha is fourteen years old and a sophomore in high school. Impressive, right?! This talented poet enjoys spending her free time writing, reading and watching anime, with a few things in between. Anyone who knows in her in real life knows her to be a shy, “weird bookworm that alternates between loner and insider, and has constant mood swings”. Online, she likes to think of herself as extremely friendly and weird. Eve Poetry Magazine finds Natasha to be insightful and beyond her years. We hope she continues to hone her craft. Her talent has endless possibilities with a bright future ahead. Thank you for sharing your work, Natasha! Keep at it!
Every time I pluck a rose And thorns don't hurt me Every time I jump over the fire And the ends of my cloth Don't catch the embers Every time I hurt you And I get away with it I see a part of myself Running away from me A part that forbids me To violate, but I do And what is left is pretentious What is left is not me It's a part that my real self Left behind.
The Poet
Saud Ahmed
My name is Saud Ahmed, I am from Pakistan. Poetry has always been my passion. What we can’t say, we can write. I always find a way out of the walls with the help of pen, it gives me strength. My Instagram handle is @sauds.poetry where I post whatever my mind can think of. As quoted by Atticus, ‘I write what I feel, not what I think I should feel’.
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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Lids click, flip open Exposing clouded glass, cerulean, vacantly staring As sooty tears seep through lashes, sodden, Rivulets run tracks, sluicing down cherubic cheeks, blackened.
Girlhood bedroom ablaze; Evocations billow, a blistering black haze Of the past, charred ash brought back; Spiraling with a burning vengeance. Unleashed, noxious smoke chokes, Rolling feverishly from the macabre source: The pyre of pelts; beloved stuffies melt, Synthetic fur smolders Sending showers of furious sparks; Spilling, igniting the dark, skittering onto the carpet, Feasting on fibres, the fire swells; Heat steams pastel pink papered walls, Bubbles mushroom, pulsate; corners scorch, curl Unfurl foul memories, sealed away Left festering for decades; Fusillade of fireworks leap leap leap to the twin bed, Singe the hem of the flowered spread; Flames tickle licking, wildly flickering, Tease and taste; she lays, arms splayed; In flannel nightgown, trimmed with lace; Paralyzed, she prays:
I want to go home. I want to go home. This is home. Not this home. I want to go home. Far away from this place.
Same, baby girl, same.
About the Poet
Lindsay Lanigan
My name is Lindsay Lanigan, and I have been fortunate to call Abbotsford, British Columbia my home for the past 10 years. Originally from Hamilton, Ontario, I attended McMaster University and earned a degree in English and Sociology. Shortly after graduation I headed to Fukuoka, Japan and spent one year teaching English at a private academy. From there, I took a position in Cuenca, Ecuador where I taught ESL again for one year before heading back to my hometown.
In 2008, I moved to British Columbia with my husband and our beagle. I started my own business and have been tutoring refugees, immigrants, and international students in reading and writing for the past decade. Our family has grown with the adoption of a coonhound, and my husband and I have fallen in love with the beautiful Fraser Valley.
I am an avid reader and have been writing on an off purely for my own enjoyment for years, but recently I decided to try my hand at poetry. In July, 2019, I created an Instagram account @l.a.laniganpoetry where I post poems that I write. My poems are a collection of my personal thoughts, feelings, and observations inspired by nature, social issues, memories, relationships etc. I write what I feel, and I enjoy the challenge of the creative process. I hope to continue writing and sharing my work into the future.
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 ⠀
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
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
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
The perfect storm of your love⠀ drowns out the deafening ⠀ silence of my heart⠀ Creating vibrant color in bleak places⠀ Warmth creeping spaces⠀ long forgotten ⠀ ⠀ By Deanna Ramirez, eve poetry
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