collection of poems eunoia (n.) beautiful thinking; well mind

I peered slowly outside my window to see her shivering in the cold November winds. I didn't know her but I felt bad for her. What had she done to deserve this? Three weeks ago, I saw her sitting on the corner of the road where there is shade. She looked well fed and her clothes also weren't torn. This meant that she wasn't some street urchin who wanted nothing to do with their life. Sometimes when she is asleep, I'd leave some food or a few dollars beside her. I wonder who she was. I had never seen her in this part of the city before. In spite of the dirt on her body and clothes, bags under her eyes and how thin she was, she was still very pretty. I had a strange desire to talk to her. I wanted to know her reason for being on the street. But I had my doubts that that'd ever happen. I think I'm in love with the girl living outside.

This book is completely random and contains all different kinds of free-verse poetry. ❅ I don't even know where some of these came from, but are pieces of writing somehow developed from the pits of my consciousness that make me wonder what the hell is even going on in there. ❅ I can't even fully make sense of the things I write, so this book is not neat and not strictly one thing, so if that's what you enjoy then by all means, go find something else. ❅ And these writing pieces are going to contradict each other in more ways than one. ❅ So decide to give it a read, or don't. Either way I hope you have a wonderful time in the human experience. ❅ Have a truly wonderful life, and don't forget to be happy.

ᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴘᴏᴇᴍs ᴀs ᴘᴇʀᴇɴɴɪᴀʟ ʀᴇғʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ Storms are temporary. They come and go, but when they hit us, we may not be prepared. These poems may seem bleak and dark at first but as you read along, you'll realise that all we have to do to get over such hurdles in our lives is just to embrace the storm. I hope you find you find meaning in these poems just as I have and I wish all of you every happiness. -'AMN **ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs 'ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʟᴇsᴛɪɴᴇ sᴜɴʙɪʀᴅ', ᴀ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴘᴏᴇᴍ ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪsʀᴀᴇʟ-ᴘᴀʟᴇsᴛɪɴᴇ ᴄᴏɴғʟɪᴄᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴢᴀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇs ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. © apostropheA (2014)

"they told us that we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys."

The first volume in the epic fantasy series Soulwoven. Litnig Jin has spent his life yearning for the power to weave the souls of the dead into magic. His brother Cole has spent his believing in nothing bigger than his own two hands. When a dragon sinks its claws into their nightmares, both of their lives will change forever. A dream of moving statues, shattered chains, and seething clouds of darkness sets the brothers on a journey into the unknown. A prince asks for their help. A necromancer hunts them. The bloom of first love gives Cole something to believe in. And as the brothers travel the world of Guedin seeking to prevent the hatred of a god from coming to life, Litnig learns that there are prices to pay for all power, and that the power he seeks may cost him more than he can possibly imagine. Soulwoven is a story of high fantasy, high adventure, and high soul searching in eight points of view, written with people between the ages of 15 and 30 in mind. I love it, and I hope you will too. Edit: An updated version of Soulwoven is available commercially. Help me write more and buy a copy! The print book will look great on your shelf, I promise. :-) Favorite reader blurbs! "This is the finest piece of literary work I've read in months." - @yakotseal "Very very like a piece of steak" - @incipient "THIS BOOK IS SOOO DAMN AWESOME A.K.A COOOOOL" - @jewell122 "Once it picks up it's impossible to put down." - @RonDoolin -JS

"The colors of knowledge splash onto the blank canvas of my mind," -ddiaz80 These poems are based on most colors of the color spectrum and will be laced with my emotions. Enjoy :) {Criticism would be very much appreciated}. I DO NOT OWN THE ARTWORK FOR THE COVER

The utter most inner thoughts and feelings of one who has but no other way to express them and therefore without a pen a paper she very much may spontaneously combust in an explosion of secrets bottled up for far far too long. : )