The journal
A curated selection from the Moniqs archive, newest first. More stories are being moved over from the original site.
Poetry · Reflection
“You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived.You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back,or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left.Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her,or you can be full of the love you shared.You can
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Poetry · Reflection
DEEPLY IN LOVE Endlessly repeating Words of Love Whispering Voices throughout the Night My Body and Soul do not belong anymore They are possessed by you now my Love I have lost Control over my Emotions No sense of Reality anymore While its still Dark outside We are here together
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Poetry · Reflection
An Angel of Death is near me but I feel no Fear Only a Sense of Relief No Matter where I am going As long as I am getting out of here I’ve lost the Sense of Reality Am I Dreaming or Awake Is there any Difference, It’s all just very Dark My Soul is
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Poetry · Reflection
Poetry should… should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance. ~John Keats
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Poetry · Reflection
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music… and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: “Sing for us soon again;” that is as mu
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Poetry · Reflection
“It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace” Anna Akhmatova 1889-1966 Russian Poet
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Poetry · Reflection
He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life. ~George Sand, 1851 Painting is George Sand by Eugene Delacroix
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Poetry · Reflection
Overwhelmed by Despair, wanting to get out but I can not, Prisoner of my own Unconscious Mind… Monique Lucy Painting : Demon Seated by Mikael Vrubel
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Poetry · Reflection
To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie – True Poems flee. ~Emily Dickinson Emily Dickinson: Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, in 1830, Emily Dickinson is regarded as one of the greatest American poets. Most of her work was published after her death in 1886.
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Poetry · Reflection
Where are you my love? Being here and I can hear you talk but I can not understand your words Standing here I can see you looking at me but I can not really see You are touching me but there is only emptiness A smile but I feel no joy Where are you my
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Poetry · Reflection
THE LONELINESS OF A DROWNING SOUL ~ MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK Help me, please, I am sinking Sinking deeper in some sort of colorless Mud You are not reaching out for my Hand And although it is close, I can not grab it When you sensed me, you even moved your hand away I desperately tr
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