I like the line about torment discovering itself, as if it were wreaking havoc and so lost in its work, it suddenly remembered what it is. Hehe. So deep and interesting. Great job, Rea.
This really drew me in. I felt the gentleness of those opening images, the doves, the wildflowers, the dragonflies, and then that quiet turn toward something much more exposed. It feels like the way writing actually happens. You start with beauty, and if you stay long enough, you end up somewhere tender and costly.
The image of blood from her eyes onto the page stopped me. It says something true about what it can take to make words at all, that poetry isn’t decoration, it’s an offering. This feels like watching someone let the page see what they usually have to carry alone.
This poem feels like a glimpse into the private, painful place where poetry is born. I love how it begins with gentle images doves, wildflowers, dragonflies as if words first arrive softly, almost pretending they’re harmless. Then the tone darkens, and suddenly writing becomes something physical and costly, with blood falling onto the page. It captures that truth many poets know: sometimes the act of creating feels like giving up a piece of yourself. The idea of cursive forming “new realities” speaks to how imagination becomes both escape and confession. The contrast between delicate nature imagery and the rawness of emotional pain makes the poem feel alive and trembling. By the end, the poet’s heart is completely exposed, and the torment becomes part of the offering. It’s a reminder that poetry isn’t just written it’s endured.
Pain and beauty go together in love and loss. This is powerful and beautiful Thank you Rea! Love, Virg
Thank you, Virg! ❤️
I like the line about torment discovering itself, as if it were wreaking havoc and so lost in its work, it suddenly remembered what it is. Hehe. So deep and interesting. Great job, Rea.
I love the way you see that line, Parker!! Thank you.
This really drew me in. I felt the gentleness of those opening images, the doves, the wildflowers, the dragonflies, and then that quiet turn toward something much more exposed. It feels like the way writing actually happens. You start with beauty, and if you stay long enough, you end up somewhere tender and costly.
The image of blood from her eyes onto the page stopped me. It says something true about what it can take to make words at all, that poetry isn’t decoration, it’s an offering. This feels like watching someone let the page see what they usually have to carry alone.
Thank you for seeing deeper, Nat. ❤️
Did you get your laptop fixed?! I'm glad to see you writing again.
Thank you, Josh. I love the new profile photo!
No, I borrowed one from a friend. Hope to get my own soon.
This poem feels like a glimpse into the private, painful place where poetry is born. I love how it begins with gentle images doves, wildflowers, dragonflies as if words first arrive softly, almost pretending they’re harmless. Then the tone darkens, and suddenly writing becomes something physical and costly, with blood falling onto the page. It captures that truth many poets know: sometimes the act of creating feels like giving up a piece of yourself. The idea of cursive forming “new realities” speaks to how imagination becomes both escape and confession. The contrast between delicate nature imagery and the rawness of emotional pain makes the poem feel alive and trembling. By the end, the poet’s heart is completely exposed, and the torment becomes part of the offering. It’s a reminder that poetry isn’t just written it’s endured.
Thank you for your insightful comment, Adrião.
Great imagery, Rea!
Thank you, Jen!
Gorgeous writing, Rea!!
Thank you, gorgeous!!
🤍🤍🤍