WRITERS MAGAZINE 02

WRITERS MAGAZINE PRESENTS . . .

THE FLOWERS SYMPHONIES

author : Isabella McCulloch

ISSUE 02

AUTHORS WORDS . . .

Hey guys ! Happy release day ! Thank you so much for opening up Writers Magazine Issue Two , it means the absolute world to me that people actually care about mine and others works of art in the form of short stories and poems. I actually don't have a little speech for this issue unlike the first one but I would just like to thank everyone who has shared their work with me and to the people who have supported me and my one and only magazine. I am incredibly thankful to be accepted and to be apart of the writing community with so many kind souls.

To conclude, to everyone reading this magazine: pursue those dreams no matter the cost.

Because it'll all be worth it at the end.

Isabella McCulloch

WIZARDS Ruchi Acharya The heart was bestowed to me from the outer space I always carry the burden of the past earthen lovers who grew old together in the midst of corn fields, who sunbathed in summer and read the books dearly.

In the year three thousand twenty-three, Reality warps, unasked; into the smoke we breathe Enchantment of darkness unfold the Jupiter’s moonbeams beneath the moon’s eldritch glow, I beholdall my secrets, amulets, lies, potions and poisoned keys.

The heavens summon the birds who lost their flight.

The ancients have passed their powers; I can feel in my heart, the mass destruction; weaponised.

All the sunflowers has died and lovers lost lovers.

Knowledge become a fragment of Life’s twilight.

To act as the protector of the realm is not a cup of tea, I am an old wizard living in a shack with sorcery, Receiving signals from the galaxy.

Is it a trap from the outer world’s human beings Or my lovers whom I never met or seen?

THE LONE ASTRONAUT Ruchi Acharya In was the farthest of North they had ever been My dull soul and the insolent me I’m a stargazer placing my thanks for nights that turned into blue mornings.

I live in a spacecraft painted in lurid white with neutral luck – and I was slowly dying.

The time is frozen with no light Marvelously planned I chase into the milky-way galaxy to bless my spirit and hers by side.

I’ve floated far away from home creating a space between trust and rest.

She left in the blink of an eye.

All the hopes and memories, she let fly.

My luminous mind has been tempered and my lambent soul is broken yet I loved, I loved until I was lost in the space under the myriad lights of flickering stars all alone- the lone astronaut.

ECHOES OF FALLEN TRUST Ruchi Acharya The dust settles down on my skin as I paint my imagination into my mind I can hear my breathings as I float naked above the pavement that once judged me I am not going to breathe the misdeeds The labyrinth of chaotic world’s facade is fatal I wonder how I landed here and hinged to poison the one that kills you slowly and excruciating The degree of pain is so heavier than your sins That it can even make angels fall from heaven The word “trust” is charred by false promises I self-berated my innocence and watch it burn The birds are drowning, the dolphins are thirsty; The lions are crying and humans are suffocating Let the curtain rise and let the pain pave in Defy the world‘s design and let yourself live

THE GLOW OF INVISIBLE STRENGTH Ruchi Acharya Amid the walls, the cracks are growing wide, As silence reigns and screams remain unheard.

The nails upon the floor screech, amplified When he unlocks the bathroom door unstirred.

My mind attempts to numb my eardrums’ pain, To shield me from unloved words’ harsh refrain.

I've become invisible within my home, And lost my reflection in the mirror’s dome.

My dancing days have long since slipped away, Morning melodies now provoke my strife, Internal turmoil leaves me in dismay, My soul in disarray, devoid of life.

But then, hope enters, hidden in my bones, A dorsal ink that through my veins has flown, I’ve learned to fight, to conquer every foe, Invisible no more, invincible, I glow.

SEASIDE (2 PAGES) Ruchi Acharya All the pain is gone, and gratitude is in.

The tiny particles of sand tell tales of a brave girl hiding within.

Standing by the seaside, I’m forgiving my sins, looking forward to following the falling sunset with unsaid feelings.

I tiptoed my feet in the water; I’ll swim.

Breathing in and breathing through, breathing deep and breathing out, I can feel the green seaweeds beneath my feet under the water.

Letting darkness sweep away and getting closer to my life, I swim with good work and good deeds.

If you were with me in my dreams, you would know what I feel in deep sleep as my arms row under the blurry sealife.

I can hear the sound of the silent ocean and the flap of the wings of the morning seagulls.

SEASIDE (2 PAGES) Ruchi Acharya With shimmers in my eyes catching the glimpse of untouched sceneries Along with the waves coming back and forth, my heart is racing like a killer whale.

Wake me up when this year dies, die thy lust stories and thy big fat lies.

In my dreams, lonely and sad, sandworms are gleaming, yellow-horned poppies blooming.

I am swimming, I am swimming.

There’s a ray of hope but also a pool of sighs.

It’s upon you whether you’d like to catch the ray or swim in the blue under the dark starry night.

The sun sets with a pink burst in the sky, and I am still swimming.

I TRUSTED YOU Tatum Bunker From times of old To days of new I trusted you But when time stopped And we had to pack You hugged me close And pushed your knife In my back

EAST, WEST Tatum Bunker The moon rises in the east O’er the mountains, o’er the beasts Frail, thin, who hold on tight Shaky, scared, won’t be right Food is gone, hands are cold Fire is out, eat the mold She has frozen, he is gone Baby wails, guns are drawn We eat tonight, but not well Knowing we may go to hell Weak pounding dies in the chest As the moon sets in the west

THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL Tatum Bunker Just to die young The pretty little songbirds sang You shattered the mirror, cut your hand I love you, Snow White The sweet little choir sang True love should wake you up Words shattered the mirror, cut your pride Why do you stay in your coffin?

No one wishes to wake you I love you, my Queen Where have you fallen?

Just to be pretty

OPEN EYES Tatum Bunker Once upon a midnight dreary Staring at the wall and screaming Silently, oh silently As I could not close my eyes For they see me, they watch me I am oh, so tired Please, my dearest, may I sleep?

May I rest my tired limbs?

May I dream of the horrible things?

The things I do when they’re watching?

But no, I don’t close my eyes I keep them open I know they are watching, my dearest I know.

You, my dearest, just close your eyes No longer will we dream Just cry, my dearest, just cry For it will not be over

BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER Kate Stinson Galapagos finches go through speciation, just as we did. Separated by distance became the norm for us. The gentle “See you Laters” collided and collapsed into the unspoken but felt “goodbyes”.

You started out as the “right one”, but this was the beginning of another end. A peacock widens feathers to show their true colors as you showed yours; no longer representing beauty in my eyes, the beholder. Instead, a Vulture“Nature’s Garbage Man" molded into reality. I was fresh meat seen instantly like a flock of ugly souls waiting to wake together. First watching me get devoured from a distance, then turning into scavengers searching for the right moment to dive down deep together in order to feed on carcass.

Love is like death. It is reincarnated.

REACH ME (2 PAGES) Brooklyn P If you were a maze, I’d never escape I’d just hit dead end After dead end Then you’d give me a hint but would it do much No Just leading me in circles around the prickly hedges And poisonous flowers The cobblestone beneath my shoes it’s so fragile If you were a book I wouldn’t be able to write anymore chapters No flowing ideas would rush to my brain with adrenaline No 12 font letters would appear on the screen Softly and slowly Just blankness If we were a lightbulb We would be bright in the beginning Lighting up a room easily with a switch But light bulbs burn out We would both try to flicker the light But it wouldn’t turn on again If I was glass You shattered me Scattered my pieces around the floor to the point where I couldn't feel my soft lips nor my smile or brightened eyes I had to tape myself back together But even tape rips sometimes

REACH ME (2 PAGES) Brooklyn P The clock moved so slow, I felt so empty, so numb, worthless I crossed out my hips and stomach and me.

But I kept you there It all felt so fast soon enough a year went by, then a week after, three months after that It was so addicting till It wasn’t I think I've done it I've molded the glass, myself back together with a burning passion as a flame and have placed myself on a higher shelf where you can't Reach me You can't hurt me anymore

COLLIDE (2 PAGES) Brooklyn P I’ve always loved the beach Where the sand and water collide softly to form a wonderful aroma They remind me of us How were so different Yet in other things were so the same You’d be sand I’d be water I liked the ocean more than anything at the beach But it was only until I got older when I kept going back to shore And then after that I couldn’t go back in it I lost my way around the waves I tried to push myself into the current but it was too late This time I was forced to wash up on the gritty ground, by a wave of doubt I realized someone else took my spot when I walked back up to my towel They seemed proud But it was always my spot on the sand And man was it scorching She told her friends all about my spot on the sand

COLLIDE (2 PAGES) Brooklyn P So I had no choice but to go back to the ocean I squished the sand in-between my hands one last time Threw some of it in my hair for good luck And stared back at the glimmering sea It looked curious, confused to why I hadn’t been in it in awhile Even though it spit me out like trash last time It’s because I was clinging on to the shells and tiny rocks But they knew They knew I was happier in the cool turquoise escape That’s when I jumped in

IF I HAD A FEW MORE MINUTES Zaila Brinson I used to pray For the day When I could say I love you That long desired day When I could climb the brae Keeping my fears at bay To turn and face you All I wanted was to lay My head on your gray Chest that felt like a quay Where I could dock my heart And surrender it to you Yet that little voice said nay The voice inside my head That made me doubt If I could pay Your high asking price But now I’ll never really Get a chance to try Because that metal bird Took you away

( 2 PAGES )

IF I HAD A FEW MORE MINUTES Zaila Brinson Jetted you into the sky Before I could loudly say I love you

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DO YOU WISH TO REMEMBER? NEITHER DO I. ( 3 PAGES )

Zaila Brinson

Published by Bitter Melon Review

I cannot say I’m surprised When you lower your sunken face To not meet my remorseful eyes.

Instead you look to the pink roses Beneath our facing feet Their sweet smell once filled our tiny room.

They sat upon the dingy windowsill, Watching us play with a porcelain tea set We stole from that one peppy classmate, That always wore her hair in curls And had pearl earrings galore.

I remember when you broke...

One of the tea cups And cut your finger so deep, That I saw your white bones For the first time.

The second was when you fell...

On that sharp gray rock by the still pond, While we were running from a stray Whose food we had tried to steal.

You cried as you were torn open

DO YOU WISH TO REMEMBER? NEITHER DO I. ( 3 PAGES )

Zaila Brinson

Published by Bitter Melon Review

By the jagged edge.

I nursed your wound, As I was the only one Who cared to learn how.

You used to curl my hair at night Sucking on a blue lollipop As I sat between your legs And dreamt of pearls and diamonds Housing themselves in my closet.

I liked to look in the mirror at dawn Admiring your labor of love Thinking to myself, This is how I should always look.

I had curls in my hair The day we said goodbye, You clinging to my body Whispering the words, Don’t leave me here.

I always knew that day would have to come,

DO YOU WISH TO REMEMBER? NEITHER DO I. ( 3 PAGES )

Zaila Brinson

Published by Bitter Melon Review

And that’s the difference between you and me.

I always yearned to make my dreams My fruitful reality.

So now the pearls and diamonds are cozy, Next to my gowns and rows of heels While you still drink from a cracked cup, In that tiny room filled with dead roses, Wishing you and I were switched at birth.

CHOP LIVER IN THE TRASH Zaila Brinson There are times I think I care too much.

Kindness is hard to bear Because it’s always me asking “Are you okay?”

But on another day When I’m the one breaking, Plunging into despair, You would not bother to Try to make the sadness stay Out of my soul.

You’d go on your merry way With the same people You cry to me about.

So much drama in your life, And this ear is always here But if I needed someone to lend one You would charge a rate Because you can’t do anything Without something in return.

( 2 PAGES )

CHOP LIVER IN THE TRASH Zaila Brinson

( 2 PAGES )

People will learn though That I am no backup You can’t use me When there’s no one else And then dump me out Once you’ve found a new toy To play with, to ruin.

Am I being dramatic?

Maybe...I’ve been told I am so.

It’s not like we really know each other that well.

Still, it doesn’t feel good to be a bleeding heart And know no one is willing to stitch it for you.

I CAN SEE THE FUTURE Zaila Brinson When he ripped the veil from my tender head, I wept... not for the past, but for my impending future One that seems devoid of hope.

With him there will be no light So because I will be drowning in the abyss of despair, I wish to pluck my eyes from my tender head.

Then, I will not witness the spears being shot my way, Their goal to pierce my body and infiltrate my mind, implanting their poison and letting it fester until I am nothing but an ugly shell of a once stunning clam, That made lustrous pearls and spent her time in shallow water looking up past the subtle ripples, Wondering what the world beyond the salty seas might have to offer her.

FRAGILE WINGS, CAN YOU RAISE MY HOPES? Zaila Brinson Little blue bird Outside my frosted window Have you come to tell me a story?

I’ve been so bored as of late Confined to these four purple walls With my only company Being the confidants crafted by my conscious Have you come to tell me a story Of the lands you’ve seen The places you’ve traveled The many things you’ve discovered?

I wish I were small enough To hop on your wings So you can take me far away So I can see the things you do.

Where is your family chick?

Do they miss you when you are away Or have they all gone from this world Soaring in another plain?

( 2 PAGES )

REBIRTH Nabeeha Musassar oh my glorious being you made me feel alive, once but now all you do is destroy me you were my muse and now my words choke me to death i would have bled for you, watered the stones with my blood but you tasted my blood and spat it out crucified my soul until it was pure enough and now you burn me by touch alone but i have always been a phoenix so carve my heart out of my chest and i shall still breathe the sound of your name.

DEAR SYRINGA Nabeeha Musassar you are a winter morn, peaceful and quiet but cold to the bone a lilac sprig, eternal wrath of Pan you are a shower of petals, a radiant blessing i am but a sunflower i lap up Helios's offering by mouthfuls i am ardent to the core a faithful dog you maim my very stalk and still, i turn to drip blood at your feet you are Cupid's arrow aimed at my very being Aphrodite does not scare me (i do not see) i only bow to the twin archer

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DEAR SYRINGA Nabeeha Musassar

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and yetyour petals glimmer, pure and naive (i do not see) Helen of Troy holds no candle to you (i will not see) your heart screams poems no one comprehends (i should not see) an ode writes itself oh dear Syringa, to Apollo's side, i must return and you, my forever banished beloved you tie your heart to a stake that will forever be on fire oh dear lilac, i am not meant for love a sunflower's fate sustains

DEAR SYRINGA

( 3 PAGES )

Nabeeha Musassar i am Icarus and you knowing you can never be the sun become Lincoln, crucified you are a winter morn where no flowers bloom except a single sacred daffodil (i see) alight on the horizon a lilac’s dying wish

MEMORY Nabeeha Musassar you used to ask for me once do you remember? now we’re back to our roots thirteen and unafraid a shower of misery you look for me in every room and i let you consume my thoughts do you remember? let’s go back to eleven when things were simpler you spit my name like a curse and i repeat yours, a benediction will you remember this too? seventeen, a barrage of fearlessness and once more, the steady weight of a hand

HEARTSICK Nabeeha Musassar the damning silence surrounds, a branded benediction do you not see me here, running ragged for your approval? or maybe you do, but the shouts run together like water until i am soundless would you like me better then? a sown up doll in a glass box tap once, tap twice soft and pretty, a welcoming embrace but i am made of jagged pieces with edges that only cut myself and i will scream myself hoarse for you heart in my throat, a crippling melody bypassing burnt embers for only the ashes to i lay on your doorstep for all of eternity a sacred symbol of misery and desperation but never mentioned, the shattered pieces of the heart you once stepped upon

JANUARY Nabeeha Musassar

january is decay its rot surrounds me to the bone it is strangled screams and a gaggle of people covering their ears it is the acid tang of something putrid that defiles the shaking foundation of my mortar i'm up to my knees in the mould the wound festers it shrivels to the gaze (january is decay i drown in it)

HOPE MY CHILDHOOD KNOWS Aadya Jain They didn't warn us to not make our childhood, our home They told us To be a star, you must burn And proceeded to burn our childhood They didn't warn us it'd hurt when it is gone I know who I was before they told me What to be at dawn I want no other shade of sunlight but childhood I hope my childhood knows that it's like salt in the sea I hold it like water in my hands I hope my childhood knows it's like shell in the sand I hope my childhood never forgets To meet me after the Sun sets Was the ending of childhood The ending of it all?

THE SEPTEMBER REMEMBRANCE Aadya Jain I used to love September but now it just rhymes with remember It made my heart so tender I fear it might shatter It rhymes only with the remembrance of you and me Walking down the aisle of those Dry yellow crunchy leaves And the interference of our crochet sleeves As we began to breathe the breeze But now the stars are calling And i must go I must leave my piano and my writings My heart and the September I must go back Remembering the way September sunlight was all bright and golden yellow I shall keep it in my heart forever and ever I must go now for the weather to change And the October coldness to have some space I must go now Until the next September When it's again the aisle of Dry yellow crunchy leaves I love September and how it rhymes with The remembrance of me and you

THE SEPTEMBER REMEMBRANCE Olivia Udoye I want knowledge Dripping of me Like velvety crimson blood, I want wisdom Staining my soul Like dead poets‘ ink, I want education Growing inside my mind Like the bright red seeds Of pomegranates, Bloodying my existence With the lush taste Of another kind of freedom.

PROPHETS OF THE DEAD MOONS Timsal Fatima Their hands were asleep.

Their heads smelled of dead horror They were an illustration of distant fear, Of the desired plague Where distance was just another direction And desires, stolen.

They were crafted out of shredded skin Of water and sand They planted roses On the banks of the river And watered them with their tears The roses died overnight Because the tears were salty In the end, I saw those sand men Cradle water in their palms They were prophets of the dead moons

PROPHETS OF THE DEAD MOONS Timsal Fatima Their hands were asleep.

Their heads smelled of dead horror They were an illustration of distant fear, Of the desired plague Where distance was just another direction And desires, stolen.

They were crafted out of shredded skin Of water and sand They planted roses On the banks of the river And watered them with their tears The roses died overnight Because the tears were salty In the end, I saw those sand men Cradle water in their palms They were prophets of the dead moons

A TOUCH Masroor Ahmed Gasping for a touch, hands find each other, sundering in the crumbling skeleton, penetrating the thin wraps of flesh, folding into a prayer, calmly trusting the warmth of each other, lips loving the bitterness of skin, hidden under the gnawing bones, dressing each other in streaks of crying red, escaping into screeching walls, eyes spilling with emptiness, vainly flowing into each other, trickling tears streaming in unison,

sedated in the damp loneliness of the room, his besieged heart lay like a trampled skull, writhing alone with wantless thoughts, hanging from the threads of his own carnality, weaving dreams of infidelity and death with a loveless stranger, he devours himself in the night.

MEET THE AUTHORS

Ruchi Acharya based in Chhattisgarh

Her literary journey includes accolades from publishers like Borderless Journal, Muddy River Poetry Review, and Analogies and Allegories. Ruchi, a passionate explorer of historical sites, resides in Mumbai, immersing herself in its vibrant culture. Her dedication to fostering creativity and encouraging aspiring writers positions her as a leading figure in the literary realm. Website: https://www.ruchiacharya.com "All worries are less with wine.”

Tatum Bunker based in Utah

Tatum Bunker is a freshman at Utah Valley University. She's an aspiring writer but is majoring in Criminology. She loves thrifting and has a major sweet tooth. She runs The Letters Home Collection and, as of writing this, has about ten publications.

Kate Stinson based in Texas

Kate Stinson is a poet from Houston, TX. She has her B.S. in Psychology from Sam Houston State University and her Post Bac in Education at University of Houston. She is a writer for Girlhood Magazine, and has 4 poems published in different online magazines.

She loves to travel, surf, and take self-development courses.

Brooklyn P based in B.C.

The amateur teen writer, poet, and artist, Brooklyn. Has made many works including ‘Ceiling skin’, ‘Float’, and ‘Is This It?’ Living on the west coast of Canada, growing up in an “unofficial small town inside of a city”, she’s been given a lot of inspiration around her everyday life.

Her friends, emotions, and home playing into her pieces mostly.

Zalia Brinson based in U.S.A.

Zaila Brinson is a student at the University at Albany, State University of New York. She is a native of Las Vegas, Nevada. Her work is forthcoming in The Incandescent Review.

Nabeeha Mudassar based in Pakistan

Respected Editorial Team, My name is Nabeeha Mudassar and my pronouns are she/her. I'm delighted to be able to send my poem for publi A seventeen year old girl from Pakistan, Nabeeha has been writing from the very first moment she learned how to pick up a pencil. Various books, poems and stories pay tribute to her life. Her hobbies include reading, crocheting and swimming.

Aadya Jain

based in Uttar Pradesh, India

Aadya Jain is a grade 11 arts student from India. She started writing 3 years ago and has been passionately following it. She aims to publish one of her poetry books in future and is working towards it.

Olivia Udoye based in Austria

Olivia Udoye a fifteen year old writer, who loves to listen to music and is obsessed with the Bronte sisters. When she's not writing, she's procrastinating on her homework.

Timsal Fatima based in Pakistan

Timsal is a literature student, residing in Lahore. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in the magazines such as: “Beneath the Mask”, “The Green Post”, “Pandemonium Journal” and “Bread Fruit magazine”.

Masroor Ahmad based in Punjab

Masroor Ahmad is a 19 year amatuer writer from Pakistan. Masroor believes that thinking, reading and writing are the only things that make life worth living. His writings mainly deal with nature of reality, the lack in being human, illusions of memories and emotions, and an attempt at understanding the unknowable.

Thanks for reading !