I was called home to gain my wings. It was scary on Earth. So full of darkness. Thank you for being my light. I'm no longer hurting. I've been set free from all of the pain. I put up the best fight I could. And all along you stood right by. I'm sorry for losing. But it will be okay Tears will fall Eyes will dry Hearts will break Souls will heal All in time Truthfully, nothing will ever be the same. But please go on living life. To the fullest extent. Full of Laughter, Joy and Memories It my not feel like it But we've never been apart I'm right there with you. Forever in your heart. Remember me As you look in the night sky You were once my shining star Now, let me be yours. The love I had for you Still pouring out freely As a ravishing waterfall Remember me In the field of flowers The beauty of growth I'm no longer hurting. I've let go It's your turn now. So, please let go. Let me forever rest inside your soul. Remember me I'll forever be alive. Go on now, go live your life.
The Fog
Poetry by Sarah Pletcher
Help. I'm drowning The demons breathe in my oxygen and let out fog. I can't breathe. I can't see. I'm trapped Can anyone hear me? Help Help My worlds falling dark I'm fading away into the fog These demons may win. Where is the sun? I long for her comforting glow. All color has fled Black and white fills my eyes Reach in and grab my hand Tell me I'm not alone Pull me back. Out of the fog Into the light. Remind me That I can Fly. I need you now More than ever So please don't let go. Don't let me drown. You can't leave me here Not right now. Believe in me. So I can too I'm just a little bent Not entirely shattered. With a little support I can hold it all together. I need to heal But sometimes We all need a little Help Can you be mine?
I am 21 years old and from Ohio. I started writing in middle school. Other than poetry, photography and playing clarinet are my other hobbies.
I write mainly on my Instagram account @the.shades_sarah.writes. I am a stay at home mom to my two daughters who are 2 years old and 1-year-old. I’m engaged to their father. It’s a hectic, happy life.
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You are yellow to me. Sunny, happy, bright. But sometimes, A little too bright. A little piercing. A little blinding. Yellow speaks of caution, To slow down. But sometimes, We see a yellow light And go even faster. A little too fast. In the right shades, In the right amounts, In the right places, You are calming. Reminding me of how real And vibrant everything is. Keeping me grounded In yellow. Yellow is beautiful. In the right light, You are golden, You are soft. In the right light, You are harsh, You are reflective Of everything I don't want to see In myself. You are a highlighter. Pointing out the information I need most. But sometimes I get a bit carried away With my highlighter. Sometimes I look down, And an entire page is yellow. You are overwhelming and Underwhelming and not A single bit Too yellow. Not A single bit Too much. Because you are you. You are yellow. And you are wonderful, And scary, And bright, And soft, And perfect. And I love you, And I thank you, For being yellow.
I’m from Saratoga Springs NY and am a student at Saratoga Springs High School. I love to read and write, and music is also something I’m very passionate about. I love to play cello and am in a quartet and a youth symphony in addition to being a part of my school’s chamber orchestra.
I have also worked part time at a flower farm for the past two years. Writing is something I’ve loved for as long as I can remember, and I am often inspired by the people and places I hold dear. Although it is only a hobby for me at the moment, I hope I can use writing in a much greater capacity in my future.
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My name is Ryan and I live in Colton, Oregon. I work as a registered nurse, but I also have a degree in English from Portland State University. I’ve always loved writing, but this year I finally decided to make a go of it.
My writing mostly focuses on our connection with nature. Some of my favorite poets include Mary Oliver and Charles Wright. I’m hoping to self-publish my first collection of poems in the near future.
When I’m not reading or writing my heart out, I’m frequently playing with my two dogs, enjoying a cup of coffee, working on computer programming projects, playing Dungeons and Dragons, or hanging out down at the local record store.
I frequently post original poems on Twitter. You can follow me @ryanwritespoems
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Nikki C Mercer is a wordsmith residing in Adelaide Australia. She manages a family, a financial career and a passion for creative writing.
Nikki’s pursuits include endurance running, eating way too much sugar and experiencing the depth of life. Nikki is co-author of The Thing Between Us and is published in a number of anthologies worldwide. Connect with Nikki on Instagram by searching for handle: ImagineExploreCreate
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She walked right passed him. He who was a King. It hadn’t been intentional. And as he straightened his crown; flexing his pectorals. Hoping that the sun’s rays would hit his kingly. That this woman would see him. That she would fall to his feet. For he needed her to be his Queen. She might have been if he had come months sooner.
For in her a sea of intensity had raged. A hurricane of hunger surged through her. Its lightning and thunder awakened her. She could only see the very being she was striving to be. She was manifesting.
Dimensions she hadn’t seen. Dreams she hadn’t dreamt. She was inspired. She was ready to defy. She was ready to fly. She was manifesting. Her being had been rebooted. Schooled by knowledge that had been so empowering. She was manifesting.
She didn’t dress like a queen. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail; sweat running down her face. In her denim jeans were patches of dirt. That represented the business she was building. The degree she was completing The integrity she held on to. The book she was writing. She was manifesting.
There, etched into her black skin were jewels of her hard work. All the things her sweat, blood and tears had achieved. She was manifesting. The king went in search of her. Resting his crown. Putting on his boots. Running towards her Trying to catch traces of the beauty that lingered in the wind; gracing time and changing lives. She was manifesting
My name is Shantae Gray. A proud Jamaican and a graduate of The Caribbean Maritime University. I enjoy long hours at the beach, reading and singing.
I can’t say that writing is just a hobby. For me, it is far more than that. It has become a way of life. A God given talent that I appreciate each day.
It’s funny how my emotions and feelings are tied to my writing. If I can feel it, I can write it. I love that about my craft. It is my feelings and emotions on paper.
I am working on my first book of poetry and aspire to be a renowned self-published author.
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I am from Uttar Pradesh, India. My hobbies include writing songs, singing, and sketching.
I am a high school student. Writing is amusing for me, but I also plan to publish my work. I have my poem “Rain On Fire” published in the book “Bloom: Poems of Loss, Heartbreak, and New Beginnings” presented by Poem Wars and edited by R.J. Hendrickson.
I have a poetic account on Instagram: @_ocean_mind_
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No Autumn is more beautiful than a woman dropping her inhibitions in the Aura of the Man she loves.
She blooms like a Moonflower on a starless night when the Wolves in him calm her ocean of ecstatic Tides.
A Poetic saga flows through the rustic crispness of sheets just like the music born in Autumn by the soft murmurs of the golden leaves.
No Autumn is more beautiful indeed and every woman awaits her call A rebirth from darkness to the myriad shades of Fall.
Unburnt Ashes
We burn many bridges in life but why do we save the ashes? Ashes that pierce every time like a sharp knife. And when it rains, the first few drops that kiss the dry barren mud of the heart we become slave to the petrichor of those rotted dead memories.
Strange but there seems to be no threshold for pain.
I often find myself standing in front of that mirror left back in the deserted woods on one of the pages of my life.
I stare at her happy face, decorating her forehead with a bindi and wearing those bangles with a coy smile. Ah someone needs to shake her up and tell her that she hasn't moved since years and it's high time.
I turn back and look at me now and see the huge walls that I've built over the years. Don't we all have those walls which we laid brick by brick to simply hide or shield whatever little is left of us?
But then I noticed that there ain't any roof and I felt like a fool, when I had the sky then why didn't I fly, why did I believe in the hoax that all is well within these dark sombre walls.
And if there wasn't any roof then why didn't someone come looking for me and take me on some wings which seemed clipped for me.
A Hero we keep searching for outside, didn't you listen to Mariah Carey say that the Hero lies in you.
Ah yes, I keep forgetting and every time someone appears like a shadow I've been imagining since so many years on those walls, remember those walls I've built, yes they do hold some vague images, vivid imaginations that comfort and soothe my aching soul.
And suddenly I try to lean on that shadow but hey shadows eventually fade when it gets dark and there you are left with one more brick for your wall.
So all I say to this little vulnerable girl, burn those bridges and let the winds carry those ashes to some forbidden land of no return.
Build your walls but keep filling those cracks so no shadows can be formed. And finally believe that you are your Hero and you have survived those storms and nobody promised there won't be anymore but remember this time don't give in to a shadow but only the one who promises you endless rainbows at night is the one who'll hold your hand for life.
Gitanjali is known in the Writer’s World by her pen name Laughing_Soul. She is an articulate single lady in her 40’s from Mumbai, India. Born in a loving family with its share of ups and downs, and after carving a a fulfilling career in the hospitality industry, her poetic soul finally found solace in penning words. She is a full time hobby writer, author and publisher. Gitanjali’s making waves in the literary world with her work, adorning many anthologies. She also invented a poetic form called the ‘Mirror Alphoppbet’.
Her debut publication, Crimson Kisses, was featured in the Mumbai edition of Times of India newspaper. Dated 25/07/2018, and praised for highlighting issues related to adolescent girls. Crimson Kisses is available on Amazon.
In her words “Poetry is when my Soul breathes through my words, pain bleeds through my ink and I witness a rebirth of my thoughts.”
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You will fail to find that passion you sparked in me when you lie with her, for she is the magnificent trees, but never a lush forest, and she is the ocean but never the surfer's waves, and she is the shoreline but never the dotted seabed, and she is the stars that light up for you, but never the sky that changes for you. And you, who wouldn't dare preserve and explore a forest, or ride the mighty waters, or drown inside the quicksand that I was, or push a little harder to reach the sky- I was too great in my being for you. It was not me that could not hold on to you, but it was you that could not hold on at all.
I write poems about mental health, identity, faith and relationships. My writing comes from my own personal experiences, and mental well-being; a place within me that reaches out to the world, wanting to confront issues that people need to talk about. I think my writing is a form of rebellion against systems which oppress through conformity rather than liberate the individual soul and mind. I am always ready to share my work and contribute to larger causes. It’s what drives me as a writer and a teacher. IG: @liminaling
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We are all so much more than our statuses, our faces or our anxieties.
We are caring and kind, but beyond that, we are not always fine.
And that is okay.
We are deeper than our smiles, our cries, and our laughs. We are human. Our emotions are so much more vast.
And we will be stronger.
The quietest person in the room fights off the loudest thoughts. Actually, scratch that, anyone can be plagued with mental exhaust. The person who seems to have everything all figured out, really, has never felt more lost.
And that is okay.
Because we are beautiful and we are bold. and we are different and have untold futures awaiting all of us.
Hi, my name is Riley Bader and I am currently a high school student. Writing has always been one of my passions so I decided to create an account for my poetry! But, aside from writing, I also love swimming and playing or listening to music. My poetry account’s username is @whitestorm_poetry. All of the support I have there means the world to me!
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It is not the day that seems special, But the people who make it so. For it is just another day; The same sun, the same sky And the same universe that guides the pass. But you speak of it as a day of remembrance And insist it be celebrated.
But is a day worth celebrating Life? And given you, given your love, Celebration and gratitude are an enormity. Life and Death are a game of scores; Each second that brings us closer adds on to Life And each moment that pulls us apart add on to Death. You ask for my choice of gift, But I already have you. What could be more dear, than a heart which beats in a rhythm similar? A soul that bows in prayer for Eternal togetherness, And happiness that unleashes at the smile that brings the dawn to your day.
You urge, and I finally ask you for a gift And you instinctively say yes. Don’t, for this may hurt, promising a thing prior knowing its price. And I go on to tell you: If ever a lonely soul you stumble upon, A shoreless sailor, with all hope gone, Promise me you’ll hold her hand And be the loveliest roses on her barren land. For a heart that is dilapidated, Life happens not in worldly dreams, But in a feather-touch that brings joy untold And shuts out one’s inner screams.
Thus begins the celebration of the heartbeat, knowing that Gone is the chasm of bitterness; A life awaits anew. I say this, for I have once been a shoreless sailor. Give you such a life, know that our love lives then As the Heavens doth forever.
Tis my birthday today, and you can’t refuse me. All I ask for someone, just like me, is a reason to celebrate; Not just a day, but a life; A life that gives glories, a life that gives pain, But above all, a life that brings you home And prepares you to set sail again.
Joyasmita is from West Bengal, India. Current job: pursuing Graduation course in Mathematics.
Hobbies: Sleeping, watching cartoons, sky-gazing and muser. A hardcore bibliophile and a music lover. Instagram handle: read_andrelate Focus for writing: A break from everything boring.
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