poetry

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...

SACRIFICE

I dream of spilt blood   Rotting blood   Dark yet sweet like licorice   My body is sending signals to me   Bleed out the demon   Bleed out the toxic scum it left inside you   Sacrifice her   Offer the fruits that lie within your basket   Give the gods what they crave   They are hungry Starving even   Ravenous for white doves and dirt stained feet   Stick a needle in my breast   Show me the light     Author: Gabriela Torres  Email: gabbtorr@gmail.com  Author Bio: Gabriela Torres is a multidisciplinary artist concentrated in painting, sculpting, and poetry. Her body of work focuses on the female form, sexuality, sensory memories, the psyche, and dreams. You will find her exploring her work at Blockfort Studios in downtown Columbus.  Link to social media: Instagram @ms.torressss

EXPLORE

I want to be unexplored But you invaded my grounds Destroying what you could Chiseling away at every piece Taking what you want   When you packed up & left You took what you found Leaving nothing but dust From the grounds you explored       Author: Hannah Krebbs Email: krebbs.hannah@gmail.com Author Bio: My name is Hannah Krebbs, I am a senior at Northwest High School. For my creative writing class, we are required to submit some of our work to be published, and I have chosen Harness Magazine.

EXPOSED

As he journeyed into me, I found my soul unprotected through the window he opened just by staring into my eyes. There I realized that I’d already lost this battle before it ever started. The pureness in his eyes left me motionless, breathless, shining a light in the darkest corners of my life that I kept secret. I’d been driven so far into the dark by my past and a stranger, in a matter of seconds, rescued me. The only thing he ever said was, “Hello.” My heart drowned in deep repentance, I flatlined. Before I could come to, he was already gone.     Author: Moneeke Byrd Email: neekechantay@gmail.com Author Bio: My name is Moneeke Byrd and I am a United States Air Force Veteran. I developed a passion for writing at an early age, and I’m excited to use ...

HIDDEN IN SHAME

I’ve hidden in shame for years and I wonder have you too? So much time wasted chasing something that wasn’t real. So much time wasted hiding myself. Sought-after perfection kept me in the dark but for once in my life I see the light. We’re not meant to be perfect. We’re not meant to judge. We’re only meant to be our best self. So I no longer hide all the pieces that make me real. This is me I’m not perfect but I wasn’t meant to be.   Author: Melissa fino Email: melissa@loveyourlifecommunity.com Author Bio: Melissa L. Fino is a defiant high school dropout who went on to receive her master’s in social work from the University of Southern California. Melissa applies her life experience with unexpected challenges and numerous insecurities to empower women to let go of the negative in thei...

THE MOMENT WE KNEW

it’s 3AM.  my head is thick and sweet with liquor  there’s a skyline before me,  grass below me  and you  right beside me.  we’ve laid here all night  speaking to the stars  well, actually, to each other  in the center  of the  city  we love.  there’s just inches between  our outstretched hands  but miles between  our uncertain hearts.  friends –  we’ve always been friends  but i don’t have  many friends  who look at me  the way you are  right now  like you’re seeing me  for the first time  like you’re looking  for constellations  in the freckles on my skin  like the stars above us  aren’t even there.     Author: Bridget Cook  Email: bridgetmcook14@gmail.com  Author Bio: My name is Bridget Cook. I’m an ambivert, loyal friend/sister/daughter, creator and much more. I enjoy p...

OPEN GROUND

On your left arm is a scar  where glass from a broken windshield   pierced skin, muscle, aponeurosis—  a thin, white sheet of fiber, impossible to know   is there without a wound.   When he was institutionalized   you told a story to explain his absence:   a flat tire, you said. Seeing your father unmedicated  is like meeting him again, is like being    a child. He gives you a purple flower,  drives you around the city, orders pizza   with oysters on top, doesn’t stop talking—  your taciturn father, his unhappy history   suddenly wiped from view.     He took his antipsychotic meds   for 23 years, sometimes buying food   for you and your brothers rather than   filling a prescription. The year you apply   for medical school your father loses     his hold on reality, it slips away   into the ...

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