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.
maybe.
i craved the open road, the quiet peace that comes with being alone, copper sun shining on a burning horizon, the highway sound carried like whispers on the wind i wanted to travel the world, my heart much too big for this small place we would climb to the roof and...
we make do.
we eat worry with yesterday’s leftovers, anxiousness swallowed down with a bit of bread that we bought with loose change found between seat cushions years of empty pockets have left us accustomed to its stale taste it will be another long day today the poems will have...
we are poetry.
words sit thick like cotton on the tongue waiting to be spun into a dress of pretty prose for strangers to wear, letters and lace to drape across the shoulders of people we will never meet, soul stories told by hands that hold tendrils of magic we move between...
Review – I Needed a Viking by Alfa
Many authors have a way of touching the heart, but Alfa reaches deeper. She speaks to the soul. In I Needed a Viking, she reminds us of our own strength. She raises us up and readies us for battle because who better to fight for us than us. In the first section,...
waiting on answers from the sky.
we exist in this summer haze, days trailing into nights we sit beneath midnight skies painted obsidian and aubergine, sipping on Guinness and cider and talking about life and love and the ache of it all we keep waiting on this new moon to impart its infinite wisdom,...
rulers.
we reign in the dream sea, the waves crashing into us in random synchronicity as we call them home they recognize the salt living in our bones, the breath of oceans roaring in our souls we sit on thrones made of sequins and stars, dressed in crowns of precious coral...
mornings can be magic.
sunrise paints the sky with a breath of poetry, all cantaloupe and mint and the same misty morning blue that lives in your eyes we speak in silent languages, in wisps and wants, in feathery clouds that flutter gently against your skin, in silent pictures etched across...
i do not care to reminisce with your days of deceit.
i am walking forwards, but time is moving backwards and somehow, i keep tracing your footsteps i keep running into you you celebrate you call it fate, but you know i’ve never believed in that not the way i believe in ghosts or horoscopes or bonds that can’t be broken...
she is summer.
summer always reminds me of her, the feel of line dried clean sheets, the smell of strawberry rhubarb jam being made in the kitchen along with fresh bread and fig cake with pomegranate i wait by the window for the june rains, the heat ushering in wistful memories of...
watch her glow like the moon.
glimmering gold and lavender love pretty pulses of healing, starlight infused into screaming veins, hope shimmering across the universe of a soul whose only ever known how pain bleeds, peace radiating through the home of bones too familiar with agony there is a...