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
Shantae Gray
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.
As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you. This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
Blood in my veins, In a frozen state, Sliding like wine On his curved, red lips.
Smoke in the air; My thoughts burning. Gaze stuck on the window, Is the rain coming?
Lock my hands, Throw the keys, Push me in the fire, Watch it melt with me.
If love is a tale, Then what is your role? Dying for your lover, Or let him kill you on his own? Or let him kill you on his own?
Aaradhya Aggarwal
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_
As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you. This site contains affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links. For more information, see my disclosures here.
Ethel Beauregard is not dead. Ethel Beauregard is alive. She died, not with a choked gasp, scream Not metal or a screech Ethel Beauregard died of paper cuts on her fingers and face She died, not of heartbreak, but of a heart made whole too many times.
She did not die with her whole life ahead of her, For she was old, and knew better than to dream, Nor with her whole life before her eyes But thinking only of one place…
Somewhere in the world there is a procession of weepers, dressed in black, and circling an open grave. I am not there. I am in a library. A forgotten corner Full of yellowing books of poetry and light from a single window, a wooden chair, and a single desk And perhaps I knew her better than anyone else:
For she did not die full of courage, strength or humility, But full of brass keys to unopened locks to unopened rooms that lay old and forgotten, She died full of yellowed letters, tragedy unread She did not live of cloud and light But of wood and dust she is buried As she always was.
She did not die of old age It was not old age that killed her
Don’t look for her in a hole, or at a grave of stone. She is not there. Ethel Beauregard is buried here In the forgotten corner of a library Among yellowing books of poetry In the light from the window Among spines of poems that mourn and weep the emotions never read The forgotten poetry of the unnamed thousand Covered in dust
Ethel Beauregard is not dead For she lives in the corners of a library Where forgotten things go to rest.
JaylaMartin
I am a devoted poet and aspiring journalist in Greensboro, North Carolina who writes to perceive and interpret the world around me.
As someone with an innate affinity for words, I always want to get better at my writing and pursue it throughout my life.
When I’m not busy studying or helping with my local poetry club, I’m spending time in my own head daydreaming or I’m trying to rope friends into an impromptu card game.
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.
Zahra Zuhair
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
This post contains affiliate links. An affiliate link means I may earn advertising / referral fees if you make a purchase through my link, without any extra cost to you. It helps to keep this little magazine afloat. Thanks for your support. Read full disclosure here.
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.
So we will change the world.
Riley Bader
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!
This post contains affiliate links. An affiliate link means I may earn advertising / referral fees if you make a purchase through my link, without any extra cost to you. It helps to keep this little magazine afloat. Thanks for your support. Read full disclosure here.
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
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.
This post contains affiliate links. An affiliate link means I may earn advertising / referral fees if you make a purchase through my link, with no extra cost to you. It helps to keep this little magazine afloat. Thanks for your support. Full disclosure here.
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
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
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
This post contains affiliate links. An affiliate link means I may earn advertising / referral fees if you make a purchase through my link, with no extra cost to you. It helps to keep this little magazine afloat. Thanks for your support. Read full disclosure here.
A storm inside a rainbow along the curious trail of a white rabbit Her name means life which manifests with ferocity and subconscious conviction Her highs soar above the mountains Lows steep thoughtfully, deeply Always contemplating life and where she is headed Anxiously plotting and planning Her future is bright and shining Her opportunities endless She works hard Needs no prescription for her laser focused vision Propelling purposeful practice of her talents that she perfects She conquers her fears and will claim her birthright Her destiny is written in the stars
This post contains affiliate links. An affiliate link means I may earn advertising/referral fees if you make a purchase through my link, with no extra cost to you. It helps to keep this little magazine afloat. Thanks for your support. Read full disclosure here.
