It took a long time for me to consider myself a writer. I still struggle with saying it. I started writing at a young age to work through feelings I didn’t dare tell anyone. I learned that once you start writing, it becomes a part of you. It’s something you always go back to whenever you are overwhelmed with certain emotions. People don’t always listen to your words, but the paper always listens to the pen.
we are not alone.
hope lives here in the still reflection of these flood waters, oceans of poetry bathed in the golden light of all of our collective suns (we are not alone) -ashley jane
she is courage and strength.
she’s like the wind, elusive, impossible to contain, a wild soul raised by wolves do you see her? there is fire in her eyes, and magic runs through her veins ashley jane
this is all that’s left.
the trees are dressed in winter, abandoned pieces left behind, fine spider lace and skeleton leaves and something heavy hanging in the air quickly comes the night its silent embrace feels too much like your own, leaving me to crave not the warmth, but your bitter...
it took me awhile to see.
i left a paper trail of poetry, a path for you to follow when you finally decided that you needed me after all, whispers in the dark that would guide you to my heart looking back, i should’ve known that my words would never be enough see, i’d been screaming for years,...
a storm of change.
we watched the sky, saw the clouds paint it black, a breath of foreboding staining a canvas that was once covered in a million shades of blue there is a storm on the horizon and we are becoming something new, dark light meets white shadow do you feel these winds of...
that wild, wondrous magic.
i trespass into late hours listening for wings, waiting for something luminous to pierce the night she arrives draped in the last summer green, all gypsy magic with flowers in her hair she knows every secret the dark holds, and her eyes shimmer with the light of a...
you cannot keep a storm caged.
we tried to capture time in a bottle, thought we could rake up all our past lives, practice some secret spell to only keep the parts we liked in a sad attempt to avert change we thought, maybe, just maybe we could tilt the scales in our favor but life doesn’t work...
dark hearts and the girls that fall for them.
i called him a white knight, this golden god with a tongue full of lies masquerading as promises he was more pretty parasite than beautiful beast, more monster than magical being he had eyes made of smoke and mirrors, and a kiss that tasted like truth he dressed in...
Book Review – Mouthful of Forevers by Clementine Von Radics
Mouthful of Forevers is a poetry book by Clementine von Radics that pulls at the heart strings. She reaches out to her readers, sharing her story in poems and prose. She manages to elicit emotion with every page, every line. Normally, I'm not a fan of romance or love...
step into the fire.
a decade descends into yesterday’s ashes, minutes moving rapidly despite the debris you say we must push forward, that the lesson is in the journey, that each second brings clarity even when the dawn is gray and smoke-stained because time is a phoenix but i am not...