Fine Lives Collective Online Literary Magazine

Online Literary Magazine

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MASTERPOST OF ALL MY PRODUCTS!

The holidays are coming up and tbh finances are a real butt, so I figured now is as good of a time as ever to get all of my creations in one place to sell!

My first full-length poetry book, RAW: From Heart to Head, is a brave and honest recollection of my story with sexual abuse and loss. Every poem is written with love and the intent to resonate and help others cope with the same or similar situations of their own. 

My second book, Playlist Poetry, combines poems with the undeniable emotional effect of music. It includes poems tied to the song I walked down the aisle to, a song that my son loves, and songs that got me through tremendous heartache. If you’ve ever stared out the window with your iPod on, pretending that your life was a movie….this is the book for you!

I also have a VERY limited number of chapbooks left!  after: relationships and the after-effect of them all, self-explanatory poetry book covering both the positive and negative effects of relationships, co-written with sweet bean, Adriana Roehmholdt. (find her book, “do you hear that, too?” on Amazon as well!) Get ahold of me personally for a signed copy! $10, shipped

And if you want to be real angel-person, my PayPal is: faith.wappat@live[dot]com 🖤🖤🖤

[finelivescollective]

I’m Back, for real this time

hi, (!)

this is Fine Lives, an online literary magazine. please submit, self promo, rant poetically whatever and send it here where it will be posted.  I’m back to having full passion for my passion project and fine lives and your writing excites me so so much.  Send your submission through the submit a post link or through [email protected]

also i am still looking for collaborators / another admin

[finelivescollective]

Prompt of the Day

Is it too much to expect someone to be your home? (Please submit your poetry :)

[finelivescollective]

Charles Bukowski’s Rules for Writing

Charles Bukowski’s On Writing comes out from Ecco Books on August 27th. In honor of his birthday, this Sunday, August 16th, we offer here his most important insights on what it takes to be a …

Charles Bukowski is my favorite poet and I love the quotes used here. I think it’s worth a read.

[finelivescollective]

Earth Population: You

I am one man of the world in the world of one man.

You are long gone.

Earth population: Me.

My friends are in my thoughts but my thoughts are my enemies.

What are you holding on for? What are you waiting for?

End it.

Best not to think. Count your footsteps out loud just to hear something human. So you don’t forget how words sound, how to say them.

One. Two. Three.

Try to remember the words to your favorite song again. Fail. Back to counting.

One. Two. Three.

I can’t walk for long. My footsteps begin to sound like ticks of a clock, counting the seconds I’m alive.

I don’t need to be reminded.

What are you waiting for?

Who are you waiting for?

En-

One. Two. Three.

  My hands pull me up to the peak of the mountain. I stumble as I stand. I swallow the view. It seems masochistic to want to see the empty roads, empty fields, empty cities from these great heights just to solidify the loneliness, the sadness, but it’s a sight to see.

All the bustling streets and crowded rooms, the hum of life: gone.

Oh, how you miss that hum.

Almost more than the ones you hummed with.

I take a step to the edge.

There’s no danger.

There’s no one around to hurt me.

I stumble slightly and I backup. My feet don’t find solid ground. The unsteady rocks propel my foot forw-

I’m hanging from the edge. I scream louder than I ever have and I scream again as I remember what fear feels like. I call out for help but remember:

I am one man of the world in the world of one man.

You are gone.

Earth population: Me.

My tears fall fast to foreshadow, lead the way.

My thoughts are quelled. Dumbstruck in the presence of what they thought they wanted.

My arms grow tired quickly. My grip loosens.

I call out again. I don’t care how useless it is.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want this.

The death of the last soul carries the most weight and I feel it pulling me down.

The adrenaline dwindles. My muscles shriek.

I’m slipping, I’m sli-

I’m falling.

A yell echoes through the mountains like thunder.

It’s not mine.

My eyes search for the who.

Earth population: 2.

I close them tight.

Earth population: You.

 (for more please visit moodbeach.tumblr.com)

[finelivescollective]

Prompt

"I have never understood how people can blithely disregard the damage they do by following their hearts. Who was it that said that following your heart is a good thing? It is pure egotism, a selfishness to conquer all." - from The Girl on the Train, Paula Hawkins (Thoughts? Agree, disagree. How has someone hurt you by following their heart or visa versa? - turn it into a poem + submit to fine lives collective 😇)

[finelivescollective]

Prompt of the Day #17

Why do you love poetry? What brought you to loving poetry/ your first encounter with it? Why do you write poetry?

(please submit your writing if you feel so inspired)

[finelivescollective]

So many times I was the stupid girl who couldn’t get things right The new girl who has no idea what she was doing I was the girl who simply didn’t belong.

And all those times, I felt like the fish being judged by its ability to climb Except I never believed I was stupid.

Yes, I probably never belonged in their world because I had my own And always, I will live in it away from people and their foolish ideas of what life is.

(for more please visit plskeepwriting.tumblr.com)

[finelivescollective]

Untitled no. 3

Separation is its own anxiety I can still taste the cigarettes on your breath Turkish royalty filling those lungs Or at least Camel’s interpretation Melancholy tastes sweeter Menthol more soothing to the palate

(for more please visit cigarette-smoke-and-inside-jokes.tumblr.com)

[finelivescollective]

poem of the day

[finelivescollective]

We’re Back.

Please send us your poetry, angels and wordsmiths.

Thank you! much love and writers block curing thoughts sent your way 

[finelivescollective]

Mythomania

my heart 

mourns

the loss 

of veracity

stolen by the

very organ 

in my skull.

the path from

brain to heart

has been warped

into a sweet apparition

of what is truthfully 

a dark, twisted

length of pretty

fabrications.

monstrous silhouettes

in the crevices of

my mind have bent 

and morphed

into sugar-coated pixies

fluttering their wings

from the base

of my throat,

somehow managing 

to escape the web of lies

caught in my dentition.

the fibs somersault

into bowling bowls

knocking down

whatever truth

like pins in an alley.

how do you find a cure

for something like this?

something where 

your soul is the disease?

(for more please visit nomadsandgypsies.tumblr.com)

[finelivescollective]

You love him in pieces, and he will never be enough, because what makes him whole are the things you never liked about him.

B. E. Barnes

[finelivescollective]

They find him miles away from where he fell in. Sucked into a hole filled with water he could not climb out. She sips the words “It’s him” like hundred proof vodka it burns. Screams echo in a house filled with people who did not know him. They do not come running. She somehow makes it out the front door before collapsing to her knees and spitting vomit onto the front stoop. It burns just as much coming up as it did going down. We go to see his body. We go to see his doll like body and most of us could swear we saw him breathing I think we prayed we saw him breathing. We all smoke on the porch of the funeral home. She sees him everywhere, in the faces of laughing teenagers. In the hands of preformers on mainstreet, that finger the strings of a guitar. She sees parts of him in every stranger that she catches a fleeting glance of. She thinks he could live forever as long as somebody, anybody, sees him in passing.

z.k.b

for more please visit craz-ee-ment-ality.tumblr.com

[finelivescollective]

poem of the day: Tuesday 11/22/16

Charles Bukowski

[finelivescollective]

We’re Back.

Please send us your poetry, angels and wordsmiths.

Thank you! much love and writers block curing thoughts sent your way 

[finelivescollective]

Submissions Open for Fine Lives Online Lit Mag

Send us your poetry please! we are looking for new poets to feature.

all you have to do is message or email us a poem with your name and/or tumblr username