A Poem by D.M. of Ivy & Ink I have never seen it —but I dream in its shimmer.A vision born in silence,where earth exhales into the sky. It is the ache of opposites —love and fury,gravity and flight,colliding in a hush of color. She — the sky’s forgotten daughter,brushing heaven with bruised light,

By D.M. The trip to the star is part of the play—Morning routine in a caffeine ballet.Throw on some pants, toss up the hair,Sunglasses on, like I just don’t care. Keys in hand, world in a rush,Dancing through traffic, the sidewalk crush.A daily mission, a little bit loud—But inside I drift above the crowd.

By D. Medina Some like it hot and blunt—sharp truths flung like stones, no sugar or sprinkles. Others prefer a softer delivery, one wrapped in illusion, dressed in metaphors, cloaked in tenderness. But the question remains: how do you seep your truth? Do you let it spill in moments of rage—unfiltered, feral—or pour it gently through poems and polite silences?

by D.M. of Ivy & Ink Her chants carrythe breath of echoing centuries —salt-sweet,like the tide below.She sings of calm.She guards — and she wrecks. She pulls you in,won’t let you surface —a lull wrapped tightin ocean’s yearn. You know her well —a thunder in tales,a glimmer in silence,a voice that conquers.

A Poem of Reckoning by D.M. of Ivy & Ink She is not vengeful —but she seeks justice.Those who wrongshall feel her passing —a slow obscuring,a sigh before the reckoning. Her name invokes demand,and with each call — her veil wanes.Retribution seeps like twilight,like Persephone’s whispered return,step by step,season by season,