Art and Poetry

EPISTEMOLOGY WITH OWLS

Do we only find  what we’re looking for?    Of late, all I seem to find  is that you are not quite here.    The other night the owl  went unseen until the dog    rushed up to it and then,  wings beating magnificently,     flew to the nearest branch  to peer down at us, woman and dog.     What reason did the owl have  to be there at the edge     of the park, wings silver and wide   in the darkness?    You see, my father handed me  The Blue and Brown Books    one Christmas that was like this.  He never told me three     of Wittgenstein’s  brothers committed suicide.    He never told me anything  about families or patterns of inheritance.     Never said a word about the distrust  of life that violence breeds,    never said there might be owls  in the darkness or that    you are only as alone ...

LOVE IS THE MESSAGE–FOR MAMMY

Close your blue eyes, don’t forget We made a promise to meet inside our dreams Pretend like I’m there holding your hand I’ll hold on to the way that feels   You’ve always been the strong one You’ve always carried all the faith You find the colors in the black and white You’ve always seen the best in me   Your words have found their place In between and through my heartbeats So even when we’re far apart My mind thrives on this mentality Your soul deserves all the good in this world This life with you has been a blessing So now I know, make the moments count And love is how we leave our message   You live among the mountains And the courses ever green The brush strokes, the movement of the pencil The faces of those traveling   The journey of one, set out to create more Th...

EMPTY SPACES

Every night as I sleep alone in my bed, I find myself always facing the left. According to my sleeping position, the wall comes to my right, but I’ll either be facing the ceiling or sleep on my side, facing the left. “But why?” I wondered. When I sleep facing my left, I can see my tiny room entirely, like a panorama view in a camera. Now my bed happens to be in one corner, my room door diagonal to it. This door faces the sides of my cupboards and mirror. Thus, when I sleep facing my left, I am directly facing the intersection of the upside down ‘L’ that the cupboards and the door form together, across two walls of my room. Doors are creepy. A barrier, to stop someone from entering your space, or a pathway for someone to do exactly that. Like they’d show in movies, saving the protagonist an...

WHO DO YOU THINK U R

who do u think u r  i wish i could go one single day where every time i had something to say i didn’t start with a stop to think “well what do they want me to say” what words, what joke would it take to convince anyone to give me an extra second of their time of their lives even just have them pretend they give one shit about me as a human.  i wish i could go one single morning without waking up completely choking – on the fear i’ll never be what i want them to see – suffocating before i have the breath to say anything from the weight i’ve created that’s dragging me down as i try to jump to these standards i can’t even see from the ground Thin, Smart, Successful, Thin, Liked, Loved, Unforgettable, Thin, Beautiful, Strong, Independent, Thin. who’s even behind all of ...

COMING THROUGH THE SLAUGHTER

TEARS   Warm salty wet sorrow  Drips down  Down down  Catch it before it falls  Falls falls  False words  False feelings  Feeling false  Words false  Gone  Gone…    Broken Skin  I have endured many skewers to the heart  Violent words  Fist to skin  Kisses to another  Contempt   And felt I deserved it  For some wrongs I must have caused.  Beautiful words   Holding hands  Looking into each other eyes  Interest  And I wonder when it will end.    I start to see myself in his eyes  The bad  The good  And it’s easier to see the bad…  The broken heart can endure more pain  But the healed heart crumples deeper.  And then I feel numb.  I will not let the walls fall again  Let myself think love exists.    To you  When your hard words hit me  I feel the sting – as intended –   I kep...

WHOLE

Too many times I thought  if he loves me  everything will be ok.   If he stays the ache  will unwrap itself   from my ribs and find  somewhere else to call home.  I told myself   I was not depressed  I was just unloved.  I searched for this love  inside their mouths,   between their teeth,   under their tongues,  between their legs…  In the attempt   to be made whole  they drank all there was,   no glass half empty,   only empty.    I was running,  with scissors,  from the only one  who could complete me  and that was me.       Author: Raquel Franco  Email: raquelfranco.poet@gmail.com  Author Bio: Raquel Franco is a wife, mother, friend, sister and daughter. A woman with the intention to connect and share her experiences, she dares women to be brave, to find confidence and carry ...

WHAT A WOMAN

I am the burning fire that kindles in your dry soul.   Igniting you to live a life of purpose.   Where you dazzle & shine brighter than platinum white gold.   I am the gentle nurturer that soothes your deepest pain.   Making your troubled spirit feel secure & safe.   So you can breathe in fresh air without being bogged down by heavy cares.   I am the beacon that lights the way of your rocky path.   Providing high-quality illumination so you can see your way home.   and Your solid foundation to help keep you from destructive temptations.   I am.       Author: Kennisha L. Crawford  Email: crawfordkennisha@gmail.com  Author Bio: Believer in God & Jesus | Creative | Visionary | Positive Vibes Giver  Link to social media: Instagram @kl_craw | Twitter @kl_craw

BOSOM BUDDIES

My anxiety and I are best buds.   She holds me tight when the night sets in, wrapping me in her arms.   The questions start to swirl in the darkness; I wonder  Am I dying? What is this bump? I can feel my heart beating; I must be having a heart attack.  Stop, breathe; be quiet!    My anxiety and I are best buds.  She and I walk hand in hand into a room wondering if anyone would like us  She whispers in my ear, ‘They are gonna notice, because they always notice.’  Stop. Breathe; be quiet!   Smile and nod; you’ve got this, right?    My anxiety and I are best buds.  Am I going to be late? Is this dress appropriate? What would they think of me?  Oh no, I said something stupid and now it is on playing over and over in my head.   She whispers, ‘They noticed, because they always notice. Maybe you...

TREE & OTHERS: POETRY COLLECTION

TREE I’d like to be a tree with tangled veins curving up wood into hungry leaves. I’d like to swim in the sun and burn so hot that I become cold, floating in space where time is but a construct wedged in a crevice of my mind. I want to kiss the stars and get star dust all over my wet lips. I want to float without oxygen, like a stubborn balloon and plunge down to earth, face first, eyes closed to a new destination—to a new tribe of people.    BREATH A sunrise, inhale.  A sunset, exhale.  Each day is a new breath.  Breathe in love, let her rise.  Breathe out negative matter,   Let her dim the lights in peace. Her cells have been dancing all day and need to rest.    STARVATION  Perched on your shoulder like a starved bird on a tree, pecking for worms that don’t exist on the planet you’v...

STRUCTURE OF PERCEPTION

It followed that the houses were empty   misshapen, as though the builders   had a miscommunication fundamental   with the architects whoever was responsible   for seeing this through gave up   I wonder about them Did they walk   to the pier? Did they watch the waves and   did they want to be other than they were?   How specific was their desire? Did they   for instance, have a name for it like disappear,   or reappear, revisit, worry, ineptitude,   abscond, obliterate. How to name the thing? Looking   for language that fits experience exactly.   Better to find it soon, to settle on metaphor   The pier offers something, extending across calm water, its rough wood is   almost a boat, almost a way to leave.   &nb...

HAND TO HOLD

My whole life I’ve been closed. Lost. Uncertain. And confused. Blanketed by layers. Hidden from them all. My life was different. What you saw wasn’t me. A facade. An illusion. A blanketed ghost. But there was no truth to be found from my layers. Happy and strong were lies. Told not only to you. But to me as well. The real truth was frightening. I was alone. I was a lie. A sham. Ready to crumble and break. And I did. I fell hard. I admitted my lies, told to myself, and spoke my truth. I removed my armor and was surprised to find another layer underneath. So I kept on uncovering, one by one, until one day I felt lighter. I spoke my truth. Each and every word and experience that had shamed me, had become my closest ally. Pain became beauty. Weakness became strength. I am lighter for I n...

SMALL POETRY COLLECTION

The garden   Like a flower In a garden She was simple Ordinary Yet beautiful And delicate In her own way     The water   The reflection of the water Looks back at her But She doesn’t know the girl Who is looking back at her     Your own better   Will you ever be enough? You will never be as good As everyone else Because You are your own better.     Stronger You   When the new day comes You will be stronger From the people that Have hurt you You have learned to grow strong And move on With a new tomorrow A new stronger you       Author: Lindsay Calvin Email: Lindsay_calvin@northwestschools.net Author Bio: Hi, I’m Lindsay Calvin. I go to Northwest High School. I am in a creative writing class and we are challenged to publ...

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