Posted in Poems, thoughts, Uncategorized


Before  I get to the main part of the post I wanted to say a little bit about the step I am taking today. My posts up until now have been more of my thoughts and opinions on things in life, books, and bigger concepts. Up until now I haven’t really shared any of my creative writing with you and I thought I am ready to take that step. I just have always been really reluctant to show what I write to people but I think that it is time  that I try. So today I have a poem I wrote recently, I will confess, during class, that I don’t know. It just happened and I know it needs a lot of refining if it were to ever be considered a beautiful poem but to me it means a lot as always and that is part of the reason I am doing this. I would love to hear feedback on the poem itself or my writing in general. Constructive criticism is welcome.Without further ado ,I present to you: Coats.

You wear to coat that I tossed aside                                                                                                          purple,worn out–shredded.                                                                                                                      Poor man who asked me for nothing                                                                                                        which I gave;                                                                                                                                                  The smile you display                                                                                                                                  who handed that to you?                                                                                                                              Yellowed teeth and tinted tongue                                                                                                              yet with that tongue                                                                                                                                      you speak only of love.

Down the street in the other coats world                                                                                                wool, new and warming.                                                                                                                             Rich man who desires everything                                                                                                         which I lost;                                                                                                                                                 The snarl he declares                                                                                                                                 who handed that to him?                                                                                                                             Glistening teeth and sharpened tongue                                                                                                and with that tongue                                                                                                                                all he knows is hatred.

I, with no coat to wear.                                                                                                                                The purple one gone–and the other never was.                                                                                  Just a man who asks for peace                                                                                                                  which I pursue;                                                                                                                                              What do I display?                                                                                                                                         Who decides my face?                                                                                                                                With either yellow or white teeth,                                                                                                            tinted or sharpened tongue:                                                                                                                      Will I be love or hate?

Will I






Thanks for reading and I can’t wait to hear your feedbacks and comments.

-Wishing you the brightest of days,Eva

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”












I am the author of and am currently working on a book of poems. To find out more check out my about me page as well as my page about my blog and welcome to the ink angels community.

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