ThePrettyPoems

  Don't you ever forget what it was like to hold yourself up like that,  with your tragedy in your arm, the one you wrote yourself.  It was pitch black that night                                                                 I don't even think                                                                                    the moon showed                                                                            ...

  The summer of our love is the winter of my demise After we kiss I wait until you're not around as tears can't hold back any more attack, the reality that the season of us is over is more than I can stand. The weather doesn't match the temperature outside, where cidacads molt and leave their wings behind so I can take their wings and leave myself, I'm just waiting for their corpses to collect them all and fly away to another place where there's color in autumn and winter in snow

    ANNIE and Rhoda woke in the middle of the night to the sound of thunder. Rhoda, who was the youngest, rushed in her pearl nightgown to turn the light and tripped on shoes that Annie had left in the middle of the room. She kicked the boots and they crashed into Annie's music box, a swan. her beloved trinket made a melodic cry when it hit the wood floor. "Can't you be more careful?" Annie rushed to the swan , breathed a huge sigh of relief that it wasn't broken, and wond it up. The soft music of swan lake with the sound of rain on the window. Annie frowned. The swan was titled and the music played a little more slowly. Rhoda looked back at her sister with her light saber flashlight.  "Did you hear that?" "You broke my favorite music box!"  "Hush!! Listen!" The music stopped playing Swan Lake. The plash of rain and the roar of the northeast hurricane was all she heard. Rhoda stared at her sister behind her glowing blue J...

  Outside under a curtain of rain, my arms stretched outward I wait for the answer to come. I prayed "Could you make me strong? Could you give me wings?" The wind turned into shards, slashing my arm losing my nerves, a glass sky cascades a sharp waterfall  

  I. I made love out of letters Beginning with “R”   Then piled them up in a basket And called it “our poem.”   Sat watching the meaning hang Itself and fall with a thump   I had nothing really more to go off of, but all the   Rotten apples leaving sweet smells from faraway-   Gave me reason to peer into a different light and notice the precarious end of branches   How high up you are Before –   There are bruises where we left Them just leave that there.   II. Pick up my open hands, remark Why are we always hungry?   The bright ones ruin our jaws spitting apple juice by accident   Laughing that our stomachs hurt in a healthy way   Love is a decision, glorious tasting I didn’t even need a ladder to   Reach between those hidden things called leaves.   You just happened beside me like two seasons.   my poetry chapbook available through etsy: Echoes  support Pretty Poems ...

      i woke up this morning to my boyfriend, naked and asleep facing me with his pelvic bones. i'm topless my round white breasts like a pond covered in lilies and gardenias, only i smell like sex and joints. i remember how mornings used to be mine, and i'd turn over and write three poems in a journal by my bed. the third one was always the best. i miss those poetic mornings, i've been too depressed to write. i thought i should take the time to be honest to myself since last night i thought i was being punished for all my sins i forgot about i hold my swollen belly in my hands my stomach throbbing, hurting inside. i pretended in a sick way - what if you were going to die like this? he says why you could write poems like that still you just don't. and i thought about me dying some more --   my poetry chapbook available through etsy: Echoes  support Pretty Poems via Ko-fi    

 It looks like you've been out here for 4 or 5 days, but you don't even remember setting up camp.  You've been fiddling with the comms praying that we can get a transmission out, so you can track our damn location.  The shimmer that surrounds  are crystal shards that refract light and keep us from getting satellite signals. There's something changing us. You aren't you when you're like this. How'd you get that way? You came back - not in the best shape but you survived the shimmer. "What was it?" I don't know. "What do you mean you don't know, you were there for a month. Was it carbon based? All we got was radio silence."   my poetry chapbook available through etsy: Echoes    support Pretty Poems via Ko-fi

 Before the wreck, dark purple circles under her eyes, the hospital bed, recovery, the exile we enjoyed ice cream on a cloudy day.   She said, before her jaw was smashed down her throat, the semi brake failure, her beloved camera in smithereens in the passenger seat, “Let’s be happy.”   Carpet sand, it’s hard to dig a hole without a shovel, seagulls land perfect, shell chips, skinny bitch, I’ll sit on the shore not really knowing any more where the horizon is.   “If only you knew how beautiful you were.”   After the wreck I could not recognize my friend, bringer of Delhi morsels, blunts, the secret charm bracelet dangles in front of my eyes not mine sex lines a jade elephant  “I didn't want to break your heart.”   A secret division, how did I perceive the truth, was it The Truth, Who’s IT when everyone comes out of hiding?   "It looks like you've seen a ghost." Damn motives. Evidence. It's the 21st century, every person hides behind a digital enc...

  Like the way a leaf Falls. Trembling. On the verge before its Slow goodbye departure. Grateful to finally rest On this floor Where the leaf Kisses and kisses From sheer delight that its fragile body Can lay in love like this. my poetry chapbook available through etsy: Echoes  support Pretty Poems via Ko-fi  

  I read a hundred poems by now. Looking for A couple drags off a cigarette, some secret truth, Yesterday, and a bowl of oranges. I only needed to sleep tangled with him. My right thigh Between his plaid legs, his occasional snore, and if he Woke up unexpectedly, through the daze he’d kiss my lips. The cool dark shade of a coming night I needed. Words for air and thoughts and loving, I need those. I’ve read a thousand poems, I’m so far. Looking for a way To say this sometimes, the moon has a laughing face. But his eyes are closed like seals twirling a tight Water bundle of sense and premonition. If you look at the sea With your own face you’ll find a reflection of a hilarious moon. I sleep in hope That he’ll recite an epic dream of those joking constellations and the comedy of life as we sleep away in hope And love - "I needed to sleep with you,"   my poetry chapbook available through etsy: Echoes  support Pretty Poems via Ko-fi  

    They curl like ivy around each other In the backseat of her car (that’s all she can afford right now) Everything is in the back Suitcases, elephants, Risk, her college books, Her id badge, no bible, his skateboard, his Handheld games, Art of War, The Decline of the Roman Empire, and all the blankets cover that up like snow If it was winter at the gate. No one turns back, I notice How clingy ivy is. You remember once someone warned you. "Leaves of three, let it be."   my poetry chapbook is available on etsy: Echos  support Pretty Poems via Ko-fi  

    "I search for a word, the word, one word." I looked back, I'm sorry, at all those old love poems To listen to how they made your heart strike. I imagined what it was like when I first gave you that poem- Now I don't feel right reading between the lines for a sign to tell me where we are. "I barely touch you." My heart is aching for your soul, when we were cold we held onto each other; I miss your hands. I can't tell any more what I mean to say, for I can't think of anything but that face of yours and be sad over it. My love "You're collections like pieces of the sun to stare into, and eyes watery with tears you remember." I stared for hours into that empty sky for two escaping birds. Lover 1: (whispers) "Sometimes I feel like crying." Lover 2: "Me too."   my poetry chapbook available through etsy: Echoes  support Pretty Poems via Ko-fi

 I have a secret collection of xmen and Avengers comics. On the top of my Marvel Cineamatic movie list is Logan, Infinity War, Spider Man, and I love a weekend of X Men movies or Gaurdians of the Galaxy. I was not prepared for Doctor Strange. Someone told me to watch it because he messes up his hands just like me. In 2018, October, my right arm went through a glass window. I had two lacerations that severed my meridian and ulnar nerve. I have CRPS, a rare and terrible nerve disease along with depression I already carried from years of abuse. Cumberbath forgot he was in a comic book movie and it was like watching an Oscar film. One scene in particular tore me apart.  [as Strange is desperately trying to find a way to cure his hands] Christine Palmer: You’ve always spent money as fast as you could make it, but now you’re spending money you don’t even have. Maybe it’s time to consider stopping. Dr. Stephen Strange: No, now is exactly the time not to stop because, you see...

  A fun deep dive into this 13 episode anime that's free to watch on Crunchy Roll. If you adore romance that combines the supernatural that touch on darker themes then keep reading for my review.     Our main character, Sakuta, walks into the school library and notices a model/actress dressed as a bunny girl, and only he can see her. Meet Mai who is also a senior in is high school who has Puberty Syndrome:  a term used to describe abnormal experiences during adolescence as a result of sensitivity and instability, this is the magical plot device or supernatural part which also delves into some dark territory.  It doesn't go too deep and tries to explain this phenomenon by quantum physics. Sakuta goes against the grain and doesn't care to fit in at school, where that is a big deal for his little sister, a character that's really important to the story because it's one of the main reasons why he believes in what Mai is going through. You've probabl...

  A pastoral lifestyle where a pig, chickens, a horse, and a donkey are your friends instead of people. Imagine baking bread, wearing gunne sax dresses, and flower picking to hear the babbling of a happy brook. Its a no make up make up look, antique books, and horseback riding. Is it something out of a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale? I’ve been picking books that remind me of this cottagecore aesthetic , here are a few in my etsy shop!   White Oleander  The characters names are Astrid and Ingrid, which i think are some cottagecore names if you ask me! shop via   Black Beauty an autobiography of a horse, of course! shop via     The Last List of Judith Kratt southern living strikes me as cottagecore: country roads, tea sippin’, family heirlooms : shop now   Peter Pan think Peter Pan collars. Tinkerbell. Enchanted fairy tale dreams of Neverland.   : shop now   Best Cake Receipes Bake your way through our charming co...

A vine- covered abandoned stone house with a tree growing through. Just before you entered Faerie Hollow. Quartz crystal clusters line a carpet of pine needles toward the entrance. Dandelion wind carried the faerie’s music, it was hard to put up the decorations for the Syrup Festival without dropping everything and dancing. Several times Euphrosyne was bopped on her head by Thalia, who had a lazer focus on her flower arrangements in the Dining Hall, because Euphrosyne would take some moss and throw it playfully in the air. “Empress Josephine will be here soon!” she squealed. Her creative juices were flowing and Euphrosyne could not sit still.       Agalia hung the banner “WELCOME EMPRESS” over a glittering door. Her graceful wings sprinkled dust wherever she went, and through the dust small buds began to bloom. Enormous amorous sleeves swell out from the bodice of her silk dress that changed colors as she passed by. The table had been set wit...

I have had the urge to revisit the stories I loved when I was little. I chose Charlotte's Web because if one bookscene has stayed with me, it is when Fern runs up to her father to save Wilbur from an Untimely death.What grade was I in? Kindergarden? 2nd grade? I was not expecting to be blownback by the emmaculate writing. I'm really lucky  I found a vintage copy at the thrift store for its sepia pages. Charltte's Web is a book by E. B. White and it won the Newbery Prize way back in 1953. There is also a 1973 animated version I adored as a child though the songs were forgettable.Wilbur is innocent, gullible, everything that a young child is and through Wilbur's eyes the reader learns to appreciate and value life. I also adore Charlotte because she is a writer like me. After I read the book I watched the movie and was happy to see that some cenes from the movie are word for word from the book itself. This book covers many difficult topics to contemplate at a you...

There are authors I'll always grab if I find them sitting on the shelf at the thrift store. Tracy Chevalier stood out like a sword in a stone. I read The Girl with a Pearl Earring years ago and remember fawning over it. In my hands now was her book, "At the Edge of the Orchard" and I knew something good was waiting for me in these pages. Tracey Chevalier is a historical fiction writer. The time period  for this book - 19th century America, I really enjoy reading about, watching movies about, this book was right up my ally - during the time of the Gold Rush, westward expansion, a story about a man and apple seeds. The story goes deeper and roots play a metaphorical purpose in this story - where we decide to uproot ourselves, the people involved in our own family tree, and the way Tracy describes the trees to you, you almost wouldn't believe it. I'm determined to see the Red Woods and Sequoias my self. Her attention to detail makes it to where every scene ...

clara, blogs as the book goddess with Roshani Chokshi Clara Bennett’s book blog was a happy discovery, i love reading blogs and hers was like a steamy caramel cappuccino at a Paris cafe. Blogs are essential non fiction, and her passion for writing and books shines through her fantasy and historical fiction book reviews. Her style was sophisticated,  She self published her first book at 13, and is working on the third book in the triology. Writing a book is a huge accomplishment and I was incredibly honored that she offered me the first book, which has a pretty cover of a lady in a midnight blue dress . The universe she created was regal and imaginative. Parts in this book made me smile, she should be so proud of the world building, her tale tells the story of Princess Gwen who escapes an arrange marriage with some new friends and fall prey to slave traders. I did not get to finish the book, with the stress I’ve been under. She was gracious to let me ask her q...