Zero Gravity

Zero Gravity

By Jeff Thomas

I have been so sick in my life
That the sun and the moon
Ceased to exist
Time was nothing
The days and
The weeks and
The months
Melted together
While I floated
And the rest of the world
Kept moving forward
Around me
Kept moving forward
Passed me

I have been so sick in my life
That the good days
Terrified me
So comfortable in my poverty
That the warmth and the love
Of other people
Made me want to kill myself
In my self-imposed exile
I observed groups of strangers
Laughing and enjoying each other
And felt the sinking feeling
Of my own impotence
I have been so sick in my life
That I've lied through my teeth

Because to get help
And admit my sickness
Would mean
Hurting my family
I am not a man
I am not a human being
I am diminished
I am dehumanized
By the sickness inside of me
I wake up every morning
Into the stench
Of reaching for something
I'll never grasp again
To float is all that I have
<strong>Jeff Thomas</strong>
Jeff Thomas

I grew up in a small rural village in the thumb of Michigan. Currently, I reside in Washington, MI where I work with a sub-contractor to Home Depot as a fence installer.

My most prominent hobbies outside of reading and writing are all related to music. I like to sing and play guitar. The word is out, and I have become the karaoke entertainment for friends and family. I love listening to classic rock records. I love vinyl, and I’m totally addicted to Dylan and Zeppelin and any Jack White project. I’ve made it a point this year to pay attention and listen to new releases in pop and indie music, it has rejuvenated me spiritually/creatively to see so many young people making great stuff. In my spare time I also record stuff for Soundcloud and make cds for people close to me. After a few tumultuous years writing became kind of a therapeutic exercise, it wasn’t until recently when a friend read some of my stuff that I had lying around in notebooks I started considering being published.

My goal as a writer is to keep working on improving my work and get books published. I would love to be travelling and doing readings and meeting people. On tour in 2015 Jack White paused mid Madison Square Garden concert to say “I hope it feels good when you need it to.” And that’s how I feel about my writing. I don’t want people to feel as bad and be as lost as I’ve been in my life. If I can use my writing to help someone take the edge off for just a moment, that’s a beautiful thing. That’ll always be the goal. I’m taking the heaven in me and giving it away. People can follow me on Instagram @jeffthomasprose and they can check out my Spotify playlists and Soundcloud home recordings @jeffreydthomas

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Poetry by Niamh

Poetry by Niamh

As You are Flowering

by Niamh Murphy

You will 
meet people
in your life
who will stamp 
on your stem
when they notice
the blossoming 
rooted in your skin
their crooked roots
intertwined with decay, 
envy rotting their soil
they cannot bare
to see such beauty 
flourish from you

Others you meet
in this life
will water you 
even with their last
turquoise droplet
gently guiding 
as you fumble
finding your way
up and out 
from the earth
they will admire you 
boasting to others
of the purity
within your leaves

Evenings

By Niamh Murphy

That evening I looked up
losing my eyes in the thick black abyss 
that wrapped the sky so suffocatingly tight
that I wondered how the stars 
did not shatter 
under such pressure 

That evening I looked down
losing my eyes within the crumbling of 
my body as grief tied a knot around my limbs
I wondered how my bones 
did not shatter 
under such pressure

This evening I looked up 
placing my eyes on the azure gleam above 
that glazed so delicately
I understood grief had flown from me
and had strengthened my soul 
under such pressure 
<strong>Niamh Murphy</strong>
Niamh Murphy

I’m from Birmingham in the UK. I’m nineteen years old. I’m living in the beautiful city of Bath as a second year university student! I study creative writing, I absolutely love it. I get to explore so many writing forms, such as journalism, writing for children, life writing and even publishing. This year I’m studying spoken word within my course, which I can’t wait for because I’m performing my poetry. I’m a member of the spoken word society within my uni, which lets young aspiring writers like me share our work. I think this is so important within a university environment as poetry can be so emotionally based, I think it’s so important for uni students to listen to emotional content because they’re words that could help them with their own battles that maybe nobody knows about. Writing has always been a passion of mine, it’s my first love for sure. I’ve been writing poems and my own quotes in notebooks since I was around fourteen.

It’s almost been therapeutic for me, if I’ve had a challenge or a life experience I’ve found hard to digest, I naturally just start writing a poem about it. For example when I experienced grief, I wrote a collection of poems. This was a chronological set of poems, each exploring the individual stages someone encounters when grieving. Within this collection, I personified different elements of
nature as helping the speaker through each step. 

I love including imagery of the sun and moon in my poems, personifying them as beings that want to help and guide us; I also love personifying nature itself as a caring entity. The overall focus of my poetry is to help others with emotions and challenges in life and to embed a positive perception of tough situations so that the reader can be assured there’s light at the end of the tunnel. I love embedding modern issues for people of my age and all ages, such as feeling lost within yourself or worthless. I weave these issues into my writing in ways that provide my readers with fresh outlooks towards hard situations. hey 

I have a book independently published on amazon titled ‘Emotionfull’, that almost takes the form of life advice. I was seventeen at the time and feel my writing style has changed since then, but I’m still proud to have achieved this. I have my poetry Instagram titled @niamhmurphy_poetry and would love it if you give it a follow as it’s where I post my work regularly. I also provide my followers with a little daily thought segment! Thank you so much for your time. 

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I Am Yours

I am Yours

By Van Owen Sesaldo

A golden explosion
And I see your sun
Rising again.
I feel the warmth
Of your rays on my skin
As the breeze gently
Touches my face.
-
I feel the drops of life
As the sea sprays merrily.
Oh what joy your
Light brings to what had
Been my bane in eternity
-
The dreaded night was long
And all so even longer
I had started to close my eyes
To answer the calling oblivion
Yet hope was never gone.
-
Now look at me and see
I remained on your shore
I am here
-
No thunder roared hard
Enough to scare me.
No storms raptured
stronger to blow me off.
No waves were big enough
To wash me away.
-
In this life of misses
And different sets
Of chances,
I am yours
<strong>Van Owen Sesaldo</strong>
Van Owen Sesaldo

From: Cebu City, Philippines
Hobbies: Song writing, Poetry writing and reading, cooking – exotic dishes
Day job: I work as an IT Director for a university in our city and I also run 2 tech startup companies: a music curation service for businesses and the other a market place for the services sector. 
Focus of my writing: Relationships, missed chances, seeing opportunities, love letters, love stories

Getting serious on the writing. I have already published my first book in Amazon Kindle Store. It’s entitled “On Your Shore: Of loves and love letters”.
I post my pieces in Instagram as @owensesaldo and use #fatpoet and #fatpoetdaily as my main hashtags.
I am also on Facebook and member of the Cafe as Van Owen Sesaldo.  https://www.facebook.com/OwenSesaldo  

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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

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
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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.
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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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Doll

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.

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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

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 ©