Poetry by Karen Blunt

Remains of the Day

By Karen Blunt

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

Poetry by Karen Blunt

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.

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Darkness by Natasha Okwuchi

By Natasha Okwuchi

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!

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Every Time I Pluck a Rose

Every Time I Pluck a Rose

By Saud Ahmed

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’.

Lost at Sea

Lost at Sea

By Deanna Ramirez

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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By Lindsay Lanigan

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 takes time
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 ⠀

By Deanna Ramirez ©

The Little Shed

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

Dedicated to my honey. ❤
-Deanna Ramirez ©


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

Deanna M Ramirez ©
Photo by Chelsi Peter on Pexels.com

The Price of Progress

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

-Deanna Ramirez ©

Perfect Storm

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
Art by @shorsh on Instagram