The Drowning Poet

19.05.16 01:19

You walked with a poet and she became intrigued

The way you’d calm her erratic spirit with a glance

It was almost like magic

She didn’t sprint away like her past always said she should

You ran with a poet and captured her interest

With soulful azure eyes you shattered her walls

It was like they’d never even existed 

You were the calm that stilled her storms

You lay with a poet and made your way into her bloodstream

And now your essence in her veins must become ink on paper

As she bleeds her precious words

In an attempt to extract you from within

While her soul sighs with practiced longing

For the vibrant muse that rescued the drowning poet

– Martie xx

Newfound Freedom & Vibrant Hearts

29.09.15   16:16

Words always failed her when she tried to put her happiness to paper — pain, sorrow and lostness always had a more natural flow as it poured with ease from her fingertips, a comfortable world where she knew all the dark corners of her inner demons; of her sputtering heart and dead emotions. 

She does not know all the ins and outs of this newfound world of hers, where each day is as mesmerising and bright as a firework show — forever changing and expanding. Laughter now bubbles to her lips each day without effort, filling her up as she dares to walk blindly further into the spectacular show of colours, people and the unknown. 

Where black holes and numbness recided seedlings of life have taken deep roots, gradually expanding their territory, banishing the dark with a stubborn ferocity. 

She has stopped questioning her smiles, the easy arrival of her laugh, her whims and feelings — she still doesn’t understand them, and suspects she never will — instead she’s learned to let them out, let them fly. She has stopped pretending like she knows where she’s going; she threw away her broken compass that could never stop spinning in vicious self destructive circles, and dared to find her own road through trial and error — she is still wandering. 

A sensation of unbearable lightness has enveloped her as her wings rest against the soft surface of a white cloud above — with crossed legs she stares down at the faraway cities, the people she’ll never meet but still wish happiness upon, trying to decide where she’ll go next. The question remains unanswered, so for tonight she’ll take to the stars as she awaits the sunrise — as she awaits a soft breeze that will guide her to strangers with vibrant hearts; her next adventure.
– Martie xx

Beneath Ink Stained Fingertips…

A soya macchiato with steam rising into the still air as the caramel topping sinks down through the foam. Shoes empty and toppled over beneath the chair while the soles of my feet are tucked beneath my thighs, legs crossed. White headphones cover my ears and fill my mind with the sweetest of tunes, ‘he told me son, you know I lost my true love for the same exact reason that you crossed the sea’ — the morning’s still young and only a few people occupy the room, we’re all going it alone with books, laptops and phones as companions, caffeine at our sides. I sit, curled in on myself in the tiny chair, all 5’10 of me, with my chin in my scarf and my coffee within arm’s length I enter the bubble I’ve missed for so long, pen poised between my fingers as the ink flows from the tip and onto the pages. What had up until this point been a fickle of my imagination becomes a little more real as the dimensions of new people and their tragic little lives are created onto paper. My Moleskine becomes ladened with the pieces of a new world that I’ve yet to string together coherently and the very essence of my soul sighs with a neglected relief as all the fragments of thoughts and ideas release their grip on my mind and gets transferred to the crisp awaiting pages. For a blissful hour I exist only within, until I unfurl my now stiff limbs and muscles, roll my aching neck, down the remaining cold coffee and put the notes away — until next time — and enter reality once more. As I leave a guy takes my seat, I hope he will find the same peace in the pages of the book he is holding as I did with my own during the time it took my fingertips to get stained with the ink I so often can’t live without…

– Martie xx

A Mini Write-a-thon

So far so good on the writing front! After weeks of digging myself into a rut I’ve finally managed to climb back out. This has now turned into a race: my mind against my body. You see, right now I am so pumped that to stop writing is actually a bit painful because my mind’s screaming “No! I am not done yet!” whilst my body is beginning to crash. I came home a few hours ago after having written 3000 words in the city, first part in ‘my’ coffee shop, then the second part whilst eating lunch at a restaurant and then the final bit at the library. I went home because I could feel myself beginning to crash, which is never pleasant.

I’ve had a mini-meal to help my energy levels a bit, and also an hour long nap. I’m still feeling a bit meh, which seems to be my constant state these days. I’m having a forced break with tea and some vitamins in the hopes that it’ll help me recharge so that I can write more later on! Right now I’m extremely happy with today’s writing achievements, but like I said: my mind’s not done yet so I have so much more I want to get down. Hopefully I’ll hit 5K before I go to bed, you never know…


You never know just how dirty the screen of your laptop is until you take it outside into the sunshine… my apologies.

– Martie xx