Art and Poetry

PAINTING AN UNSEEN DISEASE

My work changed drastically one day in 2010 when I found myself creating surreal organic environments. I decided I didn’t feel like painting portraits anymore. Although I started from a place of abstraction, the new paintings became filled with strange hybrids of flowers, cells and symbols that appeared like organisms from another planet. It was only later that I found out I had cancer crawling through my body at an alarming rate. When my doctor showed me the scans of the tumor, it looked almost identical to what I had been painting, tentacles and all. I was told I had a rare 1% of all cancers and I was in serious trouble. My tumor felt like it was a part of me, it had its own set of nerves and feelings separate from the rest of my body. I wondered what those heads of the tentacles w...

INFINITY

Just because I opened my legs to you doesn’t mean I gave you access to my soul, my aching heart, those secrets I hide in my memories, every thought, every hope, the people I knew, the lessons I learnt, the words I spoke, and those I never did, ideas, possibilities, hopes and dreams, inhibitions –   the infinity of an entire universe contained within me.   You only had me You did not, and can never conquer me.   A woman is so much more than her body     Author: Anangsha Alammyan Email: anangsha.nits@gmail.com Author Bio: Anangsha is a Civil Engineer by profession and a writer by passion. All through her life, she has looked at writing as a means of catharsis, expression and escape – though not necessarily in that order. She is currently working on her first bo...

LET ME COUNT THE WAYS YOU ARE FLAWED

Flawed the center of attention a lethal light I orbit in the depths: my tiny blind fishes and I.   Damaged but we flank this Lord of the dance, relishing his bruises, the heady promise of his smile.   So many toys to play with, syruped people – box them up, take them home: he licks his lips and their taste nauseates him.   Author: Isabelle Kenyon Email: isabellekenyon@hotmail.co.uk Author Bio: Isabelle Kenyon is a U.K. based poet and a graduate in Theatre: Writing, Directing and Performance from the University of York. Isabelle Kenyon is the author of poetry anthology, “This is not a Spectacle” and micro chapbook, “The Trees Whispered,” published by Origami Poetry Press. She is also the editor of MIND Poetry Anthology “Please Hear What I’m...

PEACEFUL WATERS

Sometimes I just want to sit by the sea. Not because I am depressed or unhappy, but because the sea has healing powers, With its waves and hushes, It fills up your mind with wonder and beauty at the vastness of the ocean. It puts life into perspective. It creates a quietness and stillness in your soul. An aquarian belongs to the waters and the air. Once or twice a year or more I have to go where I belong. On top of a hill or by mother sea and father wind. Even if it is by a little pond. Sitting by the sea is not for melancholy. But it is for contemplation. For balance. For harmony. A kind of Yin ⚏ and a kind of Yang     Author: Gassy Traore Email: gassyt@hotmail.co.uk Author Bio: A sea princess and a sea-lover forever. “When air met water, it made me who I am.” #aquar...

THINGS I TELL MYSELF WHEN I’M LONELY

I wrapped myself in your absence last night It holds numbers whose value I cannot speak, but whose edges scratch my bare shoulders from the inside of an otherwise comfortable cloak.   I walked among favored strangers ruby lipstick bleeding from my chapped lips, talking to a homeless woman and her dog. He promised me silver and gold, she said, clutching at cheap satin batting. But I don’t need money. I need someone to hold me like I’m human.   I tried to give her the covering you left me, for it holds in heat. But I cannot rid myself of something that is not. You are as much a feeling of home to me as my mother making banana smoothies. You represent the same warmth.   I am always loving you, trying to convince myself I can freeze as well as live, telling myself yo...

IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY

No cloud in sight, a cool breeze in the air It’s a beautiful day There is a sweet calm in the whispering breeze, beyond the hum of car engines and shouts of their drivers It’s a beautiful day The smell of brewing coffee hits the nose of sleepy heads, waking them in groggy awareness It’s a beautiful day The taste of a warm breakfast, beside the window, gazing out to the clear world It’s a beautiful day Dogs barking in the distance, and beside the backyard’s fence, proving there is life beyond these four walls It’s a beautiful day A wet tongue greets your bare leg, and you gaze down with a gentle smile at the hungry pooch It’s a beautiful day You laugh in delight after he joins the chorus of the trio’s barks outback It’s a beautiful day The busy morning routine begins, with the sound of show...

SEASONS OF QUIET

they pulled me aside to tell me i should turn the volume down turn down those blinding lights “it is too much, honey, too much” they were whispering, full of that thing people here call care i don’t care – i thought and got betrayed by my own mind one more time one more time silence growing as days were passing month by month season after season silence eating up my arms and legs and insides intoxicating my blood drowning my fire in its airless breath   and i was so full…   so full of screams that couldn’t get out of my lungs i imprisoned them and got imprisoned by them them… them it was always about them, wasn’t it?   you watched them scream so fully and beautifully meat on their bones desintegrating becoming a scream itself   “can you save me? can yo...

CROSSFIRE

How deep water does your soul go? Will you realize one day, that I drowned my heart in the shallow end? I didn’t trickle or dance in the black, marbled puddles— I fell right into devil’s water.   ***   It makes me sad how much you can love someone— and how little it matters.   The open-ended “why” looked at you in many lights (and darks) next to your unmade bed and through the static of my kitchen radio.   Can’t a beautiful moment just be a beautiful moment?   Why do my hands hold your fears— caught red-handed in the crossfire. I’m tired of having these shards of glass embedded in the cracks of my fingers— the sharp-edged, “You f*cked us up,” that chips away into emptiness… brokenness.   Can’t I just break down like a wilting rose— slow and steady, but then al...

HER

I know the day she left I just don’t know what time Where did she go? I don’t miss her I don’t even know how she left She was there I swear she was there And then she wasn’t When I think back, I feel saddened by her People didn’t stay People stayed away People moved out She was just there So alone I didn’t know what to do I should’ve shown up sooner I just didn’t know how to help her Or where to start I came across her briefly every now and again She just passed by though I was such a small thought she had She wanted to live like I did She wanted to be me She just didn’t know how to get there So she gave up Where did she end up? Where did she go? She’s not coming back She’s not I won’t let her I don’t want her here She’s too far gone I’m already here She was wrong I had to lose her I aband...

LITTLE WRITINGS FROM THE LILAC WRITER

THE SUN AND HER The sun cried to be just like her The sky asked “why?”   The sun replied “She carries beauty Within her both sides I yearn to be her replica.”   The sun replies “But you’re also a star.”   My luminescence never fades I’ll still be here blazingly – beaming In awful gloom   Weeping to be her.”     WATER AND WATER AND WATER AND WATER TAUGHT US  The sea taught us how to swim a little further The ocean taught us how to love in depths with pride The rivers and lakes taught us No matter how small we are We can still make a difference And reach everywhere. -For anyone who feels that their world is small and opportunities are limited. Just remember you can make a difference, you are the difference, use it wisely, be you and you shall reach everywhere. ...

WOMEN THAT ROCK + HARNESS: APRIL FEMALE ARTISTS

This month’s recommended artists are brought to you by Women That Rock, a platform created by women, for women much like Harness Magazine. Women That Rock is dedicated to supporting and promoting up-and-coming female musicians and female-fronted bands, Women That Rock is cultivating a community of badass ladies who are creating amazing music and connecting with one another through their art. Visit Women That Rock’s brand new website, https://www.womenthatrock.co and follow WTR on Instagram at @womenthatrock to stay in the loop on amazing lady artists, news & upcoming events. If you know an amazing female musician or girl-fronted band that needs to be heard, email their information to thewomenthatrock@gmail.com! Emily Afton California-based Emily Afton’s voice is transporting, powerful ...

TWO PERCENT

My mother had turned it into a game. And it was simple. Whoever found the most change in the house won. That was it. Our one story suburban home was free range. Everything counted. You only had to make sure that you turned every single silver cent in. Pennies allowed, of course, but frowned upon. It didn’t really matter, though. Only that our wooden, chipped coffee table was covered in coins. My mother and I didn’t start playing this game until I was 10 years old, right after my dad left. My older brother, Nicholas, wasn’t around much. Just as absent as our father. Spending most of his time at his friend’s house, unable to deal with our sadness, I think. I didn’t notice it back then. Especially when my mother would move the stacks of unpaid bills off the coffee table and we’d stand on eith...

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