Poetry booklet announcement ★✨★
Hey everyone ;)
I'm coming here with some good news!!
Me and a co-writer here @MClarice have published a poetry booklet on Amazon!
Our beautiful joined creation is called "Inhaling Stardust and Drinking Tea""
(yes, the title pretty much gives you an idea I am made out of the universe,
moonlight and countless galaxies - but I think a lot of you already know that)
Below is a link to our star-filled Kindle Booklet
(and the cover that an artist made for us for this project
is absolutely gorgeous if you don't mind me saying ;))
Amazon: https://a.co/d/hHGpCa9
We feel truly blessed to be in this moment of our lives and coming with this heart written bundle of poems to you.
We will be so happy if you check it out, purchase and leave a review under it.
Thank you to everyone that's been a part of this Prose family and enjoyed our work. You have been an inspiration to share our poems further into the world.
Anna and Miesha ;)
summer is kind to my nostrils
I hate summer, with utmost passion. Summer in my city is not your usual romanticized singing of the cicada-esque experience where the thin breathable fabric on your body gently oscillates in the soothing sea breeze as you nimble on freshly shaved ice. Summers here come with a declaration of war, an epidemic of fatigue, blisters heat waves and ORS shopping. There is, however, a soft spot in this city's summer towards its inhabitants, you can see it in action after 11pm, from the peel-your-skin-off gusts to lull whispers of air passing by, such is the contrast in treatment at this hour of night. There is a strange aroma that fills up the space around, maybe it comes from the transpirating rocks cooling down at the riverbank nearby, maybe its a pressure difference bringing in the air from lands I have no clue of or maybe its the prayers of those troubled at day answered for them to be at peace as they slumber. Whichever it is, it is gentle with a discrete presence. At an instant you sense it and at the other your nose is left searching; maybe it is more playful than it is gentle, whichever it is, it is kind; as opposed to the nostril numbing gales that one has to endure in winters, this fluff like aroma, these summer nights are kind on these ever so fragile nostrils.
impossibilities
you.
some kind of figment,
( balanced in purple hands )
in a dream world where
things are hazy and warm
this.
somehow we've ended up here,
in the space of a breath
( how could our faces be this close together )
it's wrong and unreal and a
little bit
lovely
we.
exist in a wide open space
with room to breathe, so far
away
in the right ways
and
you believe in me, i think
that.
a dream is a dream is a dream,
and it doesn't mean a thing
( ? )
our bodies
untouched
dream.
is it so wrong to think
impossibilities
Sexy Brained Writers.
Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.
On the channel today, we go into the road west, spam, new writers, and brains, art, and all things dear to us. Here's the link. Mentioned authors tagged in the comments below.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5Ep6dFgyjQ&t=56s
And...
As always...
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
You called me by my name
maybe I have been here before
walking on wooden ladders,
and climbing the moon
perhaps Jupiter was my other home,
maybe I have been here before
sailing on ice cubes
in the tallest glass of life
perhaps, stardust powdered both my skin
and my heart
invisible tapestry of constellations
in the shapes of fallen suns
reflecting of my eyes
maybe I was made of rain dew
and lemon-drops,
my soul
colored with pastels
and flirtatious butterfly smiles,
perhaps, me and the darkness were good friends
lights like summer braids
woven into my hair,
and mixing with navy-blue ash
maybe I have been here before
and you whispered
my name so well,
you called me love
and climbed the moon
with me
hyperactive matter, softness, and this soul in between
I immerse myself in the sun
swallowing gold
within tattered lungs
gravity no more than a delicate red string
in a child's
soft chubby hands ,
my body lifts and pivots in a boundless spell
swirling somersaults
on the edge of the light
cutting air between oxygen and lost time .
I am something yet unsaid
lifetimes
of dying stars
fireworks waiting to be lit
I immerse myself in the sun
I swallow myself up
starting creation at day one .
reinventing structural walls
the blueprints
to my soul
Yeah one of those days...
Today is one of those days
Where I smile
When my insides are tearing up
Where I beg the air to be considerate
Before my tears well up
Where I talk
But actually want someone to listen
Where I try to be jolly
Without having a vision
Where I hope I make it alive
While wishing I don't survive.
×∞ Adin
15 July 2022