if you scream loud enough

will everything be silenced?

if you explode into a burning fire

will all the smoke clear away?

if you sweep into a battle guns blazing

will you win the war?

if you walk around in an iron shell

will you let anyone in?

if you drink a bit of poison every day

will you notice when it’s all you consume?

if you draw a line in the sand

will you let it be crossed?

if you preach nothing but hate

will you let yourself love?

if you wish the world to be as it was

will it ever change?

if you turn a blind eye

will you ever see?

if you hide from a catastrophe

will you be at peace?

if the world decides to end

will it be able to begin again?


to dance

group of people dancing

is to revolt.

to dance

is to be aware of the people staring

and choosing not to care.

moreso, to shift your care into the wave of your hands

the jump in your feet

the toss of your hair

the freedom that runs through your soul

and bursts from your skin.

to dance

is to listen to a beat that you can hear

loud and clear

even if it goes unheard by anyone else.

to dance

is to smile at frowning people

staying still on the ground

whose eyes roam over your body

and attempt to make it still itself

and to move on, anyway.

to dance

is to refuse to be weaponized

by a system that demands rigor mortis

by the fear that has always controlled us

to raise your head and laugh.

to dance

is being willing to go it alone

to trust another person

to join a group

united in individual movement.

to dance

is a love letter

encased in melanin

and tendons

and stretch marks

and beauty.

to dance

is a fist extended into open palms

knowing directed force

has more power when applied to certain points.

to dance

is freeing, joyous,

when you can learn to dance for yourself

that’s where it starts.

to dance

is to let go

of the positions you have known

afraid of moving on

but ready to do so at all costs.

to dance

is a protest

is a performance

is perfect

in its own way.

to dance

in whatever shape or form

whoever your feet move for

may in every little way

you find your dance



the sun shines through a foggy pastel sky
burning orange against faint pink and blue
it peeks behind a mountain,
hiding from the ocean in its view.

the rain has been pouring for hours,
wailing in the darkness, crying in the showers
puddles lie in the crevices of the ground
drops falls from leaf to leaf and roll all around.

blue streaked feathers dart amidst the trees
like this place is an early morning sacred sanctuary
a second of peace to be gleaned from the sky
this moment is ethereal, and passes from all unobserving eyes.

i’ve been enjoying watching the storms pour and staring at the clouds for hours on end, hence all the weather poems. idk i just think they’re neat

thunder eulogy

photography of lightning storm

i wonder if all the storms
are the heavens’ way to truly mourn
nature’s personal funeral
for those without a memorial

i wonder if the sky weeps
for those who left unwillingly,
unknowingly; the lightning strikes—
electric horror through a child’s eyes

i wonder if the big clouds roll
black in their misery, like the ones below
who chant and scream and plead to live
barely heard by greedy cowards with privilege

i wonder if the entirety of space
trembles at the chaos and violently shakes
then, realizing the weight of such a lost cause
declares thunder for this tragedy:

a planet that exists only to haunt.


finish the song – letter writer

I wish I could just write all this in a letter to you. I feel like if letter-writing were still allowed then I would still have a way to legitimately talk to you, not just these conversations I have...


we’re back at this again.

not really sure where it came from, but here’s letter writer.



dear God let’s have a conversation
i’m just tired of waiting for an invitation
there’s been more thorns than colorful carnations
did you have a plan or was that just my imagination

dear God where are you supposed to be
are you only over the oceans or do you rule the seas
because i’m slowly drowning and it isn’t even deep
but would you believe that i feel like i’m free

yeah, the world is burning did you have a clue, have a clue
we’re all hurting and no one knew, no one knew
is this a tunnel we’re supposed to walk through
so tell me, how the hell, am i supposed to trust you?

forgive the cursing, sometimes i’m inclined
to bring out the sin and my much needed pride
that isn’t holy i realize
but that’s a situation in which you thrive, right?

you’re aware of the growing mess
pick out my flaws and i’ll burn the rest
something tells me though that you know best
who am i to argue when you created this

do i know where that came from? nah

do i hope it meant something worthwhile? yeah

is that really all i can say about this? pretty much

~with shortness of breath, i’ll explain the infinite, jo~

finish the song – then


how are you 
i saw your instagram story
are you alright
do you need to talk
can you tell me what’s going on

i know 
it’s been a long time
you have your own life and that’s fine
but you used periods 
in your sentences 
the last time you even texted me

got your message
that must hurt a lot
i can’t believe 
he would be so dumb
you’re tired of living 
you wanna quit
the world is fine
without you in it

and it’s like 
what do i do 
what do i say 
if i had any power 
i’d make the pain go away
but there’s a screen
cause life is mean
that’s keeping you from me
in the end 
i’m just a profile pic of then




i wrote this song in like ten minutes and got stuck at the end, because it’s the kind of thing that you don’t just finish in ten minutes? yk? it has a tune, and a beat, and some chords, but it doesn’t yet have an ending.

which is sad.


you know how sometimes we do response posts to each other’s posts and add on stories of others’ stories and draw art based on another’s words and vice versa? how we’ll take prompts and write them out based on how we feel and join works with another person and call that a collab?

well, consider this an open call collab to respond to this unfinished song and add to it in your own words.

or tune.

or art.

or whatever comes to mind.

it’s your sandbox go play in it yk?

comment if you do respond, maybe we all need a little sad friend song

~i can finally see, you’re as fxxx as me, so how do we win, jo~

isn’t it lovely

isn't it lovely.png

what is love
but a line that is ingrained in the minds of the people
preceding its infamous successor
baby don’t hurt me
don’t hurt me
no more
because love hurts
but they don’t tell you that, now do they?

what is love
except to make people blush
shake their heads and tell me
that i’ll get it when i’m older
but i’m older, and i’ve received nothing
was it meant to be pressed upon me, at an opportune time?

what is love
that people insist upon its exclusivity
yet wish for its instant availability
and frown on those who don’t feel love
in the same ways they do
because, of course, that’s the only love that matters?

what is love
when they laugh at the idea of friendship
being a deep and true source of that which they crave
at the thought of choosing to be a character
in someone’s narrative
simply for the sake of being there?

what is love
when i cry alone
at a beautiful piece of art
and want someone to cry with me
and laugh and fight and eat cookies with
but despise the societal expectations and views
that come with the whole thing?

what is love
when i feel deeply in love
with the soul of a thing, regardless
of gender or identity or their views on mary poppins
a cup of coffee, the sunrise, are equally enchanting
is it so wrong
to be in love with a little
of the world at a time?

what is love
when it has been used
as a knife, dragging down my skin
tearing me open and leaving me raw
is it love to feel so loveless
so used, so worn
is it anything more
than these chains that forced me
down into the shaky ground?

what is love
but another chance
to slowly try again
to fall in love
with who i am
to step out into the sun
and be okay with what has become?

~and oh, there is no power on earth or below
that could ever break our hearts or shake our souls, jo~

p.s. no, no, of course i have a crush and of COURSE it’s not what happened after watching the lumineers explanation of cleopatra, of cOuRsE–

like an indie song that you can’t forget (i hope)

like an indie song that you can't forget (i hope).png

i think i feel

so many feelings

that whirl into abstract randomness

and eventually dissolve

into the still



that i call an indie folk song.

spotify lets start radio play

and bluetooth works today

and today

i am happy

is that what matters?

i hope so.

because i am calm in a world that thrives on disorder.

i have piles of things to learn

lists of people to communicate with

things to write and books to read

and emotions to suppress

at least for today

because today is not the time to cry

i will later,

when it’s quiet and my favorite character has just realized they matter

and maybe i’ll realize that i matter

and can freely share these emotions with the world

will that make it go back into order?

does it have to go back into order?


i question all of this

is that right

is that good

i don’t know

but i want to

and maybe this year

i’ll forget what people look like

i’ll forget what they will say

i’ll forget what they think as i take the first step



i can’t wait to leap


is my new favorite number

for a reason i can’t explain

but it leads to freedom

and freedom means

being able to talk and having people listen

and choosing to do things and it is



is scary


to be one’s own self

sounds quite terrifying

to have to make it into the world

sounds deathly

(isn’t this, of course

the world that thrives on disorder?)

but i think i’ll be okay.

i have a Friend

who is quite good at bringing the disorder to order

He loves everyone

but He loves me

which is


and i have friends


and maybe they would like to see me fly too?

skate on wood

and let my voice loose

take a plane

and learn to dance

would they

could they?

but regardless

i’m an indie folk song

and i could live forever

until the next song starts.

~hey look ma, i made it, jo~

me and allison hang out in the basement with fairy lights and poetry because they’re both pretty (also, book!)

me and allison hang out in the basement with fairy lights and poetry because they're both pretty (also, book!).png

i’m tired. my homework is piling, my stress is increasing, and my loneliness is my new best friend. 

that’s when i get the dm. 

allison’s publishing a second poetry book!


but who, you ask, is allison?

*points below*

da lovely person

Allison Beery is a Christian teen with a passion for creating and capturing beauty, whether it’s through writing, art, photography, or taking a walk in the woods. She lives on a big farm in Central Virginia with her parents, four siblings, and a multitude of pets. She strives to glorify God in everything and love people genuinely. Learn more about her at her blog, A Farm Girl’s Life, or stalk her art Instagram @thecolorboxstudio.

i can remember last year as vividly as my favorite song, the post that popped up on my reader saying the first blogger i ever followed had published (and illustrated) her own poetry book. i can remember reading through a few of the poems and all of the reviews, gaping in awe, marveling, interest piqued. 

what i would’ve given to be able to pay for shipping. 

it’s a year now. it’s a second book, another one, and allison’s asked me to review.

tour 17
da lovely book


which, i eagerly say YES to. i didn’t think i could wait this long and yet i have and o f  c o u r s e i’ll help her with her blog tour. abso-wonder-lutely. 

my eye is puffy from scratching it when i open the pdf. i drink a chocolate avocado smoothie, play sleeping at last, and read the first poem.

and then the other.

and then the next one after that. 

i can’t stop reading. i can’t. 

Related image


in a world that treasures instant, immediate, rich, showy content, allison has weaved the abstract of daily life into intricate threads of love and musing, jam and fireflies, adding a touch of whimsy with simple, but meaningful illustrations, that all combine to one, big, beautiful tapestry known as spark. 

some days,
i am
the turtle.

i think, of all the writing genres, poetry is the one that’s the deepest. the one that reveals the most about not just the person writing it, but also the person reading it, and spark just brings that out in such a beautiful way. reading allison’s poems was like having a midnight chat with her, which is insanely beneficial for the soul, it turns out. even though every single poem is personal and came from one person, experiencing each and every one was a bit like looking into a mirror. i could see myself.

and you can’t remember what you were about to do
for the life of you?

poems that make you see yourself are the type that should never be forgotten. and this particular book has already managed to bring a bit of hope back in a dim, dreary world. 


so i write allison back. 


what made you, 

brave art girl

begin to weave 

these masterpieces? 

(yes, i’m serious.)

kind one,

it was so:

some things cannot go unsaid,

and yet they cannot be spoken.

beauty must be handled with care:

i saw the label on the broken petals

scattered across the grass

and knew my tongue was too heavy

and my heart too timid

to bear these words across the waves.

thus i trained a pen to

whisper my secrets to the page, instead.


do you have a favorite

in this collection of poems

one with extra special

top dollar care? 

and you wonder –
is this even the same song?

“but mommy, which one of us

do you like the BEST?”

an innocent smile.

“i love you all the best

just differently.”

a knowing sigh.

but that never satisfied you,

did it?

and so i’ll tell you, if you promise,

wide-eyed, to let no one know.

finger to your lips, now, tiptoe:

knock knock.

a collection tears through

an uncaged summer drive.

that, my dear, is code for

how can I decide?


how has

the art of words

strung together

set your life for the better?

and discover that we were
living upstairs
this whole time.

it is not good to

let your thoughts tangle.

poetry is an excellent conditioner –

it makes for a less sloppy appearance

and easier breathing, too.

plus, sorting through the pictures

your mind takes when it’s awake

doubles the enjoyment:

or makes it infinite.


with all this writing

you must get thirsty

is there any favorite drink of yours

to sip on during the process?

a poem rises

too fast to do anything but

sit down.

who can drink water

in the middle of the ocean?

my thoughts drain far too quickly;

i will catch the drops,

then quench my thirst

after the pen’s hunger

has been satisfied.

f a m i l y.

do they inspire 

and how,

can we inquire?

something wonderful must come of
this melt-in-your-mouth joy!

i live with these faces and so

i paint their portraits.

they appear between the covers

if you look close enough.

they have shaped the hands that hold the pen;

they shape my heart,

they shape my days.

simply put,

i paint from life.


would you want fame

for the work you do

the art you create

the mess you make?

(that assumes you make messes. i apologize.)

there can be too much of

a good thing.

famous? me?


thank you.

fame is messy,

i write clean.

but i would love to know

my book has touched the hearts

of many.

being famous without

the fame

would be nice,

i think.

except it never seems

to work that way…

this small bird was going to fly with him
to the stars.


a pen

you write with one

which do you prefer

paper, or a computer? 


poems are nocturnal things,

silent creatures, words with wings.

a pen and paper coax them best

to eat from my hand,

i’ve found.

the smooth ink flows well

with my thoughts.

and then, once the words are grown,

my fingers


and the screen catches the poems,

better now,



if you had just one day

to say everything you wanted to say

what would it be

if it was today?

i would say

all the things i’ve been afraid

to say before –

i would say, please look after

these hearts i love.

maybe you didn’t know, but

i knew them,

i felt them, deep inside.

take care of them for me.

and me?

perhaps you never really

knew me at all.

but then again,

smiles are no less real

for being followed with

a stare at the soul.

 and last

we ask

draw forever and write never


write forever and never draw

would you pick one

and why, if at all?

my heart is finally clear of
cardboard boxes.
don’t make me pack it all up again.

you may have heard

a picture is worth

a thousand words.

i have used a pen

to create art

before i learned the forms of letters.

and i would continue that way –

unless, perhaps, writing comprises

all different kinds and shapes and sizes:

if i had to choose between

drawing on paper and

email, text, poetry, stories, words

spilling from my heart when speech won’t do –

perhaps i would put away my sketchbook forever.

but i could never

choose one.

how did you hear

a picture is worth

a thousand words?

with words.

promoting art is hard

without letters,

and so they go together


and it makes me happy. that a friend is releasing her thoughts to the world. thoughts that i wish everyone could read. it makes the tiredness feel not so bad, the loneliness not my only friend. i think it’s beautiful. i think that it’s about time and i think allison’s work is a m a z i n g, but in the little way you don’t notice, like how a robin’s egg cracks open to reveal a little fluffy birdie, or how someone opens a gift wondering what it is. amazing. i can’t wait to see where this spark will go. 

turning the closed box curiously,
but the hinges won’t give.

and if you find yourself agreeing, 


i told you so. 😉 


you can get spark here



October 25

Allison @ A Farm Girl’s Life – Blog Tour Kickoff, Author’s Intro, + Giveaway Begins


October 26 (Saturday)

Aria @ Aria Lisette – Book Review


October 27 (Sunday)

Amie @ Crazy A – Book Review, Author Interview, Poem Snippets


October 28 (Monday)

Jo @ Pananaw– Review, Snippets, and Author Interview with a slight twist 😉


October 29 (Tuesday)

Sam @ The Chocolate Box – Book Review & Poem Snippets


October 30 (Wednesday)

Megan @ A Barefoot Gal – Mini Book Review


November 1 (Friday)

Hannah @ The Striped Plaid – Book Review & Poem Snippets


November 2 (Saturday)

Charis @ Charis Rae – Mini Book Review & Instagram Q&A


November 3 (Sunday)

Heather @ The Frozen Library – Author Interview


November 4 (Monday)

Clara @ Clara & Co – Book Review & Author Interview


November 5 (Tuesday)

Allison @ A Farm Girl’s Life – Blog Tour Wrap-Up + Giveaway Winners!


it’s your turn, we ask. if you could write a poem, who would you write it for? 🙂


~i see stars, jo~

i had plans at 12 am

i wasn’t planning on publishing this poem.

simply because… because it’s raw. it’s real. and it’s not something that’s easily published.

but today is world suicide prevention day, and that’s why i have something to say.

i wrote this based on reading/hearing/talking to people who have gone through the toughest things, the things that drag you down and make you want to lost all hope, the things that make you want to end it all.

so part of it’s hearing from other people.

another part is from personal experience.

roll film.


i wonder how far people can spread this and read it, but even if nobody sees it, that would still be enough.

~even when the dark comes crashing through, when you need a friend to carry you, when you’re broken on the ground, you will be found, jo~