“Beyond” in Ireland by Stephanie Jackson

Free Verse Poetry

My writing is a forest one must cut their way through, with overgrown brush and branches.

There’s no concise maze to follow, shoe after muddy shoe through metaphors and tangents

No sequence to be domestically fenced; painted signs overwhelmed with moss

Gingerly sprinkled expectations that frequent imperfection requires a heaving toss

Breadcrumbs perished with no landmark to manifest “the way”

Trusting the ticking of tedious and grandfather clocks pleading, “stay”

Lost in the college-ruled lines, with a beating heart for an escapade

Calling for consistency, this perspective is something they forbade

Malnourished margins closing in, drooling for something foreign

Arrows…


Deception Poetry

A new emotion surfaced. Just then, on page 314, this character playing the part of a romantic, but is really deep down a conman, said those three words that I'll never forget were said to me.

Combination of words: one part cliche and one part desired for reasons unbeknownst to me. Words that he has sent through my ear piece, affirmation rushed over me like the light breeze accompanying a big wave, just as it crashes on your anchored feet in Sullivan's Island sand.

"I see you."

Rage becomes me as a girl becomes a woman in a sea of…


Free Verse

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Laughter by the glass, clinks of conversation
Freudian slips rimmed with inebriation.
Modern music mopes historic frames,
Half empties pour the bitters tame.
Advertisement in fallacies, trimmed technique
Pints of cubed glass, full like her physique.

Raspy whispers and motorcycle manners
Counting on closing for numbing banter.
Empty electricity across from blonde highlights
Uptown hopes as internal poverty fights.
For conclusions from ill-prepared,
Blush aspiration sprinting scared.

Cast out shadows, cast out doubt
Hollow encounters, she can do without.
Reflection of resistance for her potential
Unfulfilled in today; a stranger to residential. …


You didn’t fall in love with her, you fell for what she provided you.

A fill to your bottomless void is mostly what excited you.

Eyes never adverted from yours, in an indescribable manner

Finding comfort in occupying consecutive days in her planner

Nestling in the concept that she picked you out of a line-up

She’s an ideal hobby to devour your attention and time up

She cleans up nice and makes quite the accent to your arm

From parents to friends to executives, she’ll bring the charm

Her body is a place you have gladly been a tenant

But…

Stephanie Jackson

Postcard poet, global student, and electric empath seeking the sweeter side: https://datesandcakes.weebly.com Vlog: https://youtu.be/BOwfeeO4N5o

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