Felicia, your poem weaves inevitability and choice together beautifully—acknowledging the myths we’re told while affirming the power we hold. Assemble our own surrender to the love frequency—that line hums with depth, a call to something greater than fleeting romance. And that final thought—the award to a life well lived, is remembering the unforgettable—lingers like the last light on the horizon. Poignant and masterful.
VersAnnette, this is pure transformation in motion. Floating effortlessly is her reward for all the deaths she has died—what a powerful line. The rhythm of surrender and rebirth flows beautifully, leading to that final, liberating truth: I am her, she is me, and we are both free. Stunning.
Ashley, your words carry a powerful sense of emergence—of stepping fully into light, into recognition. The repetition of somewhere under the sun sets a steady rhythm, like waves returning to shore, each line building on the last. That closing declaration—You can no longer dim my light—is a victory, a moment of undeniable presence. Beautifully done.
Ashley, actually I am relieved to have gotten your message right. It spoke to me in a deep way, like you wrote from my own soul. Thank You for gifting that poem.
The words of us tell me it simply fades when the night comes.
It is in me to have the honor of knowing where it travels. Where its ends meet.
There is an assembly of paths for the sun to choose when the night comes. It is free to show its light at will to anything that needs it.
It is not just us as individuals that it gives it’s light to. It’s not just that girl picking sunflowers in a field. Or her parents that watch her from a porch as they converse and find joy in each other.
It is in us to have the honor of knowing where it travels.
The universal wonder called pure curiosity carries us with it on our spaceship called earth. We flow with our sun, our son, our sol. Knowing the flow of this path with our curiosity is our award.
We know where it travels even if we can’t see its path. That is the definition of faith. We are rich in our abundance of it as we follow the sun.
Cherished Stardust, this is a luminous meditation on light and faith. We flow with our sun, our son, our sol—what a beautiful, rhythmic truth. The sun’s freedom mirrors our own, and your words remind us that even in unseen paths, we are rich in knowing. Beautiful.
You inspire my mind as well as my heart and though I only participate sporadically (health reasons) when I do, it never ceases to amaze me how much art becomes life in a profound memorable way. I’m truly grateful for discovering Artstack on Substack. My creative “talent” instilled in me since childhood lies in the words that come to my mind rather than to my hands, which could never adapt to the admirable gift of drawing. Words become my way of self expression and grow deeper into my soul each time I write.
Even the bright sun must slip below the horizon each and every day.
We pray for the honour of wonder and the feeling of peace because
Somewhere along the path of life we were told about the moment
Where the girl meets here prince. But, we know that does not exist.
It is up to us to assemble our own surrender to the love frequency
And to choose a partner who's heart beats with a shared, divine melody.
Like the fall of Rome, or the riches of Cleopatra, some things are inevitable.
The award to a life well lived, is remembering the unforgettable.
Beautiful -
“The award to a life well lived, is remembering the unforgettable.”
thank you!
Felicia, your poem weaves inevitability and choice together beautifully—acknowledging the myths we’re told while affirming the power we hold. Assemble our own surrender to the love frequency—that line hums with depth, a call to something greater than fleeting romance. And that final thought—the award to a life well lived, is remembering the unforgettable—lingers like the last light on the horizon. Poignant and masterful.
Wow 🥹💗 thank you! These word-prompts inspire me so much
each morning at dawn
she’d rise to meet
the sun with quivering expectations
she assembled her pain
in tiny little piles
of hopes, dreams and lessons
but somewhere
in another dimension
lives the girl who meets
herself for the first
and last time
dancing in moonlight
with abandon
honoring the voice
that says
“keep evolving”
spinning
she comes alive
with fire in her eyes
high on wonder
and whimsy
floating effortlessly
is her reward
for all the deaths
she has died
and even as her soul
surrenders
she is
replenished by
an energy so rich
with higher frequencies
and sound healing
appealing to the
healer within
May the gods award
her willingness to fall
answering the call
to resurrect
until there’s
nothing
left
to protect
truth is
i am her
she is me
and we are both
free
(see my page for the painting)
VersAnnette, this is pure transformation in motion. Floating effortlessly is her reward for all the deaths she has died—what a powerful line. The rhythm of surrender and rebirth flows beautifully, leading to that final, liberating truth: I am her, she is me, and we are both free. Stunning.
WOW! Love your insight and thank you SO much for the kindness. I honestly don’t always know what I’m conveying so this is super encouraging! 🩷🩷🩷
I am so glad VersAnnette that my words resonated I you are feeling seen, heard and appreciated. That's exactly what I hoped for.
Lovely poem and gorgeous art.
thanks love! 💕
Somewhere under the sun,
My skin cries for relief.
Somewhere under the sun,
We no longer understand the words we speak!
Speaking to exist, longing for a gift or a sign.
I wonder when, its my time to shine!
As bright as the rays the sun,
I know oneday it will be done!
sun rays bring clarity, to the unseen unheard and forgotten.
The unseen see clearly under the sun,
The unheard voices are as loud as the sun shines.
The forgotten are forgotten nomore, whats done in the dark always comes to light.
Especially when the sun shines this bright.
You can no longer dim my light under this amazing sunlight.
#thepoetryhaul
Ashley, your words carry a powerful sense of emergence—of stepping fully into light, into recognition. The repetition of somewhere under the sun sets a steady rhythm, like waves returning to shore, each line building on the last. That closing declaration—You can no longer dim my light—is a victory, a moment of undeniable presence. Beautifully done.
Thank you soo much for your kind words and feedback. Thank you for getting exactly what i was trying to convey💕💕
Ashley, actually I am relieved to have gotten your message right. It spoke to me in a deep way, like you wrote from my own soul. Thank You for gifting that poem.
THE-GIRL-HOLDING-THE-GLOBE
I wonder the ways in which to
honor
the sun, somewhere holier
than here
with frenzied assembly
before
the
fall.
It’s rich,
the meet and greet
with the-girl-holding-the-globe
like an
award-something
to assemble
somewhere
holier
than
here
I wonder where the sun goes.
The words of us tell me it simply fades when the night comes.
It is in me to have the honor of knowing where it travels. Where its ends meet.
There is an assembly of paths for the sun to choose when the night comes. It is free to show its light at will to anything that needs it.
It is not just us as individuals that it gives it’s light to. It’s not just that girl picking sunflowers in a field. Or her parents that watch her from a porch as they converse and find joy in each other.
It is in us to have the honor of knowing where it travels.
The universal wonder called pure curiosity carries us with it on our spaceship called earth. We flow with our sun, our son, our sol. Knowing the flow of this path with our curiosity is our award.
We know where it travels even if we can’t see its path. That is the definition of faith. We are rich in our abundance of it as we follow the sun.
#ThePoetryHaul
Cherished Stardust, this is a luminous meditation on light and faith. We flow with our sun, our son, our sol—what a beautiful, rhythmic truth. The sun’s freedom mirrors our own, and your words remind us that even in unseen paths, we are rich in knowing. Beautiful.
Thank you! What you said was the picture I was trying to paint. Bless you for your creative vision 🙏🏾
Poignant.
Yes, but the faith one holds makes that feeling of hopelessness worth exploring ☺️
The Black Haze waa masterful. Definitely going to try and do one this week🫡
Thank you for your lovely comment about my poem. 🙏
Golden Hour
Somewhere beyond the waves,
where turquoise water kisses the sun,
she waits, radiant, wrapped in heat.
The girl with deep blue eyes—
eyes that drink me in like honeyed rum,
slow and intoxicating.
☀️
Smoke curls from her lips,
a lazy exhale of longing.
She watches me over the rim of her glass,
the rich burn of rum punch staining her mouth,
red as sin, sweet as surrender.
🚬
Honor was never in the awards they gave her,
but in the way she commanded the night,
the way she let the world fall to its knees,
watching her move, watching her assemble
pleasure like a work of art.
🔥
I meet her gaze across the fire’s glow,
her smile—wicked, knowing—
ignites a hunger that has no name.
She stretches, skin silken, bronzed by sun,
fingertips tracing unseen promises along her thigh.
❤️
“Come closer,” she murmurs,
and wonder is no longer a distant thing—
it’s the press of her body against mine,
the slow unraveling of time,
the heat that lingers long after the night has burned away.
@Artstack #ThePoetryHaul #artstackpoets
I don't see myself as much of a poet but I tried to put some words together
the sun shines,
they honour the word.
somewhere, they wonder,
will they meet, come fall?
Thank you so much for the inspiration and support! It means the world to me.
you may never win that award
not be the one
on whom honour is bestowed
you may die still waiting
to meet that one
that could touch you
somewhere
long gone
but when the ravens call
ancestors assemble
and the spinning bowls
begin to fall
your last stare
neither rich or poor
will be in wonder
at the sun
shit i pasted the wrong version 🤣
*not be the seen
No Throne is Safe /
The Ground Remembers
…
They think we are fools—
too tired, too broken,
too full of last week’s hunger
to rise up from the dust,
to assemble against them,
to meet their steel with fire.
.
They think we will fall in line,
swallow their lies like cheap bread,
like a sermon meant to pacify,
like a prayer meant to keep us in our place,
while they sit in rich halls,
handing out awards to each other
for the suffering they create.
.
They think we forgot
how revolutions start—
not with guns,
not with gilded speeches,
but with a woman who’s had enough,
a girl who refuses to bow,
a worker who lights the match
because the rent is too damn high
and the air too thick with the stink of greed.
.
Somewhere, the sun rises
over a nation that still believes in honor.
Somewhere, a child wonders
if freedom is just another word
for what the rich take from the poor.
Somewhere, the ground remembers
the weight of boots,
the taste of spilled blood,
the sound of the walls
when they finally break.
.
They want 1939—
the iron fist, the midnight knock,
the country carved into cages,
the anthem twisted into a battle cry for cowards.
.
But we know the taste of 1789.
We know that no throne
has ever been safe
from a people
who remember their own power.
.
Let them build their walls.
Let them sharpen their laws into knives.
Let them stand at their podiums
and pretend they are kings.
.
We are coming.
Not with whispers.
Not with warnings.
But with fire.
With fists.
With the voices of a thousand generations
who will never kneel again.
.
The ground is waking up.
And this time,
we are the storm.
________
Prompt words—sun, honor, award, wonder, somewhere, fall, assemble, rich, girl, meet
That Sparkly Place by Sarah Hauser
Sun through the trees
The breeze
I see myself
Years ago
A young girl
On a grassy hilltop
Alone in wonder
Where am I going?
Somewhere
New
The leaves rustle with the soft breeze
The reward
For rich imagination
Is in one’s heart
Without hesitation
The honor of finding that space
That revelation
That sparkly place
Where magic happens
Without effort
Colors and shapes
The pen, the brush, my hand
All rush to catch up
With that energy
The textures, the paper,
The canvas, the clay
The day flies
By
And I can’t wait
Til the next
Sunrise
@artstack #ThePoetryHaul #artstack #artstackpoets
April sun—
meeting the rich soil
of wonder.
---
Cendrine Marrouat - March 1, 2025
---
@artstack #ThePoetryHaul #artstack #artstackpoets
https://substack.com/profile/211558990-cendrine-marrouat-artist/note/c-97298524?
The best movie & quote.
Live Action
I feel like an animated character
Living in a live action
This is not my world
It's dizzying and demanding
It's claustrophobic and cruel
It lacks colour
And a certain flow
In this world all I do is fall
Stumbling over its rough surfaces
Tripping over its sharp edges
I meet the ground often
With a painful greeting
But
Sometimes
Usually in the dim hours
This world reveals its softer side
In the chirp of a bird, in the coolness of the wind
This world reveals its essence
Its wonder
Beneath the grime and chaos
There is a soft calm
A gentleness
I see it only when I am alone
And for a moment that seems to stretch into eternity
I feel somewhat
At home
#ThePoetryHaul
You inspire my mind as well as my heart and though I only participate sporadically (health reasons) when I do, it never ceases to amaze me how much art becomes life in a profound memorable way. I’m truly grateful for discovering Artstack on Substack. My creative “talent” instilled in me since childhood lies in the words that come to my mind rather than to my hands, which could never adapt to the admirable gift of drawing. Words become my way of self expression and grow deeper into my soul each time I write.