WRITERS MAGAZINE 02

THE FLOWERS SYMPHONIES

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.

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

IF I HAD A FEW MORE MINUTES

Zaila Brinson

Jetted you into the sky

Before I could loudly say

I love you

PAGES

DO YOU WISH TO REMEMBER? NEITHER DO I.

Zaila Brinson

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.

Zaila Brinson

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.

Zaila Brinson

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.

CHOP LIVER IN THE TRASH

Zaila Brinson

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?

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 ( 3 PAGES )

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

DEAR SYRINGA

Nabeeha Musassar

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

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

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. based in Uttar Pradesh, India

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 !