So hello everyone! I’m sorry for disappearing for so long, but I have a VERY GOOD REASON! I RELEASED MY DEBUT AUDIOBOOK!!! I’m so so excited for you guys to hear it, so I’ve attached a little preview of the final track of the audiobook to the bottom of this post. All I really wantedContinue reading “I RELEASED AN AUDIOBOOK!”
Category Archives: poems
Pastiche
An amalgamation of one or two lines from every poem I’ve written for my AgoraPoetry series! Enjoy that’s like clouds without the sky. my voice has its own poweran ignition, somewhere. as though a faraway brush has brought us all into existence up up and up it is no surprise now the whispers of warmthContinue reading “Pastiche”
Arbor: A Visual Poem
Ahhhh~
this tea, was made byso many hands,i cannot count them alleach leaf gently kissedeach finger and as i sip,each of theirnameless handsdissolves oneach of my tastebudswith a satisfying ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
A Poem for Every Autumn Day
Originally posted on A Writer Bee:
Today’s post is a special one (and posted outside our normal schedule…the scandal). I have a special guest PM, a spoke word poet. We’re doing a sort of collab guest post breaking down our thoughts of three poems from A Poem for Every Autumn Day, a collection by Allie…
Anxiety Retold: A Haiku, Part #2
now, you are a friend,old anxiety, present,breathing out, lightly.
On Rest
let me tell you the secrets of my day, the whispers of warmthwho greeted me in the morning,who returned only when the nighthad swallowed the sun. in the spacesleftbetween them, my day lay, and stretched hercat-like selfacross every hour, minute, and second,grazing on the clock-handsI fed her. quietly,when no-one waslistening, I stole them, to endContinue reading “On Rest”
A new Friend
the breeze was the first child to have been born, the first animals heard her criesheard her shreaks as she used the trees to rattlethe ground to danceher tears so large no river could curb. it is no surprise now,as she has grown old and wise,she uses the trees to rest,the ground to dream, andContinue reading “A new Friend”
Petrichor
I imagine tiny rain drops,with tiny faces,all peeling themselves off the floorlifting their heavy, tiny bodies,upupand up to return home.
The Painter
Photocopied trees circle me,And I feel as though I am being painted,As though a far away brush has brought us all into existence– Then a child runs too carelessly,falls on their face,And the painting is slightly torn.
