Julianne Algueseva
Bio
Just your friendly neighborhood writer and craftswoman. Doing all what I can to spread kindness and creativity throughout this wide world. I enjoy reading fiction and non-fiction books, as well as writing from my own life's journeys.
Stories (21)
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Dearest Darince
Dearest Darince, Far too long our journeys have been divided. Never to touch or to be near, only silent. I yern for your presence more than you know. Our life-givers decline, detest, and refuse our love to grow. Whether by moon or sun or ecliptic skies I want to run away with you, to be more than just quick eye to eyes. Can we meet at the white willow tavern, in private this time? I'll be wearing a dark green cape with gold earring chimes. Possibly at two in the morning before the pub closes. Maybe we can sneak a quick dance and kiss before the news exposes. I hope you are well in your castle far far away. I'm sorry that my father gave you such a verbal beating the other day. I believe he is too protective of me, you might say.
By Julianne Algueseva3 years ago in Poets
The Camp Experience From Hell
I very much wish this story was a fictional tale, but sadly this is all taken from my experience. Due to many other subjects, the Summer of 2001, for me, was extremely difficult. One of the several was surviving Camp Flaming Arrow. Everyone in our friends and family circle swore it was the best camp ever. From their reliable and caring staff, to their educational and safe environment. It was a haven for all children.
By Julianne Algueseva3 years ago in Confessions
Wander, Wonder, Wake
We wild warriors wait. Watching wallowing worlds wilt while wicked wealth whirl wars. What wool will wolves wear? War wheels will weave, weighing winners with wasted wrongs. Wayward wounds which weapons wreak, wishing waters would wash what was. What's worthy without worry? Why wrestle with wasted welders who wreak weaponry? Whose whining woke winter? Who? What wretched wolf works with waste without worry what will wane within? Wandering words which whisper woes. Winds will worsen, winds will wisp ways whirling, weakening wings. Widowed wombs wait wondering when wretchedness will weaken. Wise words woven within while we withhold wishes. Wishing what worlds will wake.
By Julianne Algueseva3 years ago in Poets
The Resurfacing of the Snake
St. Patrick is one of the most well-known Catholic saints in human history. He is celebrated internationally in the United States, Brazil, Australia, Britain, and of course, Ireland, where he has been honored as the patron saint of the country for centuries.
By Julianne Algueseva3 years ago in FYI
18 Long Years
~I've cried enough of my tears from this nightmare. In ways death can be like an everlasting dream, and for some, their eternal visions of horror can last for a lifetime. In my case, I need to move on and let go. This is not just for my health but for the family I do have who are living with me in the present. I must let go of the dreams that could've of been and wake to the dreams that will be manifested by me in the real world. Writing this poem has helped me cope with the loss of my soulmate eighteen years ago. It's time to heal, it's time to wake up, and it's time for me to be at peace.
By Julianne Algueseva3 years ago in Motivation
Traveling In The In-Between
Moving is stressful. It can weigh on anyone of any age. It doesn't matter if you're moving across the country or just down the street but it is definitely not an easy task. Mom and I have lived here at the Creston residence for a little over 22 years. We moved in on October 31st 2001. In that time, we have made so many friends in this neighborhood. Unfortunately, this location used to be a safe haven but in the last eight to ten years it’s gone from a B+ neighborhood to a D minus one. Some of those same friends we made moved as well in a five year period, but not all of them.
By Julianne Algueseva3 years ago in Humans
The year 2022, for me
What can I say about the year 2022? There are a lot of words I want to say but are very inappropriate. I guess a good word or better yet a verse would be, “what the fu*k?” I do apologize but that is the best I can do when it comes to substitution of vulgar words without cutting out my true emotions for this past year.
By Julianne Algueseva3 years ago in Motivation
The stinky old man
~ I wish this was just a funny, fictional poem but it is not. This poem is based on experiences both my mother and myself went through. I could write more but I really don't want to stir up my PTSD. This poem was written in 2012 when my mom was several months into dating Mr. Tony. I published it about a year later on my blog. I know this person was one of my mom's friends back in highschool but still, time can change anyone. As she put it towards the end of their relationship, "he was not the man she once knew." Almost for a four year period both of us saw how toxic this individual was. Mom went through a lot of hell with him. She really tried to help build their relationship but things only got worse. I know the poem doesn't explain the other nightmare incidents that occurred at my moms house and at my apartment. Over this course of time, we noticed that not only was he a narcissist he was also a liar and a manipulator. Tony hurt my mother in so many ways, and some of these she still wont discuss with me but only with her therapist and doctors. I can only imagine what horrors he put my mother through. I am still grateful to this day that he didn't put her in the morgue. Several times she came so close to death because of this man and his so-called ‘needs’. The apartment was one thing but hurting my mother was another story within itself. I am also grateful mom kicked him out when she did and brought me back home. I still pray that the woman that he's with now sees what a monster Tony truly is before its too late. I hope he does not hurt her or her family members. No soul should put up with this kind of behavior. Without further adieu, here’s the poem.
By Julianne Algueseva3 years ago in Poets
