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Poetry- Karissa

I don't write poetry.

Poetry writes me.

It writes my mood, my actions, my thoughts and my feelings.

It writes my questions, my muses, my curiosities and my disappointments.

It writes my triumphs, my travails, my loves as well as my losses.

For as long as I can remember I have been a very sensitive and emotional person. I often thought, and through the early years of my adulthood I was often told (mostly by my romantic partners) that my sensitivities were a shortcoming.

I was too emotional.

I was too soft.

It made me weak, and vulnerable and I needed to work harder to curb those natural inclinations. 

I foolishly believed that for a while, until I learned that my ability to feel deeply and channel those sensitivities is actually one of my biggest strengths.

My words became my therapy.

My words became my shield from others scorns.

My words became my biggest pride and my constant supporter.

My words became my most fulfilling artistic outlet.

My words became my solace.

For whatever I may lack in life, I will always covet the courage of my words.  

Final Draft - Cover - Melancholy Musings of a Shameless Romantic.png

In print July 2024

Melancholy Musings
of a Shameless Romantic

Melancholy Musings of a Shameless Romantic marks the "coming of age" of my voice as a poet. I had wanted to write for a long time but had a stifling case of imposter syndrome as I had never gone to university for English, I had no degree, I hadn't studied the great poets before me so what right did I have to call myself a writer? What I did have was overwhelming daily thoughts and emotions that I knew nothing else to do with but grab a pen and paper and work through them.

This is the first of three poetry books I have at various stages. Melancholy musings is just that, the start of flexing my poetic muscles in regards to the ups and downs of dating, being an artist and simply navigating through life.

Simple sketches, similar to that pictured on the cover, are sprinkled throughout.

Collections to Come...

A Woman Who Made Herself Her Muse

My work progressed to a deeper rooted and more thought provoking prose, grounded in what it means to me to be a woman in my follow up "A Woman who Made Herself Her Muse"- which is almost complete. Birthed during my transition from my 20's into the 30's- through a pandemic, frustration with a disgustingly sexist political leader of a country and a complete career overhaul inspired by the giving up on a dream and finding a new life course. The book will explore portrait photography to accompany my words.

Watermelon Sky Kisses

Simultaneously, my third captures my most recent headspace, a long distance love affair as love is sparked, separated between two countries and comes back together again only to once again navigate long distance through work leading to separate cities. Titled 'Watermelon Sky Kisses" it includes a journalist, autobiographical element weaved amongst the poetry with photos and conversations from my personal life.

Excerpt from "Melancholy Musings of a Shameless Romantic"

Sunday evenings seem to be 

when I sense you the strongest

I wonder if it's because somewhere out there you are thinking of me as strongly as I am of you

I like to believe that maybe our souls meet in our dreams on Sunday nights

Maybe that would explain why I wake up every Monday, missing you

with a renewed fierceness

Our souls know we should be together

and they are brave enough

to cross the boundaries

that we are not

Excerpt from "A Woman Who Made Herself Her Muse"

Am I a beautiful doll with a 28” inch waist

With long flowing hair and plump lips to taste

If an hourglass shape I maintain, full bosom, round buttox but a slender frame 

Can dictate the beauty your eyes do behold

But not if I should stray from the standard mould

A firm tongue lashing, a slap on the wrist, chastised, criticized my heart you do scold 

Affronted, my unexpected emotions enfold

As the words cut deep, they leave a lasting impression, my soul not my shape has learned a harsh lesson

I’ve done nothing wrong by changing or growing, it’s not about the figure of measurement I’m showing 

Shouldn’t my value lie not in the numbers on the scale  but my kindness, compassion, how I choose love to heal 

If my once doll-like beauty has faded in your eyes just because I have slightly plumper thighs

Than perhaps the word love holds for us different meanings

Beauty to you on the outside I see in souls gleaming 

I’m sorry I can’t uphold what you had hoped or expected

But it’s been a long time coming now that who I am I’ve accepted. 

Excerpt from "Watermelon Sky Kisses"

The air of this small space

Is tinged with our presence 

I breathe in the moment

And faintly it drifts into me

The all too familiar scent 

of a stranger I once knew

But did I ever really know you?  


I knew your scent once 

It enwrapped me and roused me

Lulled me to sleep and wildly woke me

A comfort 

a calling

Both the detox that cleansed me

And the intoxicating substance rushing through my veins


That scent once tainted

The damp of my skin

The curl of my hair

The lust on my lips

Becoming more familiar then my own

Yet again, hardly known

How I long to call it home


That scent

That scent

That scent

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