The Never Girl

By Stacy Stevens

This chapbook of poetry is a captivating collection that showcases Stacy's exceptional talent for weaving words into profound expressions of emotion and introspection. Her brutally honest approach provides readers with a rare glimpse into the human experience, allowing us to connect with our own vulnerabilities and triumphs. Stacy explores the paradoxes that exist within the human condition. She skillfully navigates the realms of rage and submission, illuminating the fragile balance between strength and vulnerability, power and surrender. Through her artful use of language and imagery, she invites readers to reflect on their own personal battles and find solace in the shared human experience. This collection of poetry is a testament to the power of poetry to touch the core of our existence, leaving an indelible mark upon our hearts and minds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stacy Stevens
• Release date: Mar 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224344574

Stacy Stevens

Stacy Stevens is a writer, digital artist, and confessional poet who possesses a unique talent for crafting compelling and imaginative narratives. With her words and images, she brings worlds to life, leaving a lasting impact on readers' hearts and minds.   Stacy's passion for storytelling began at the tender age of 14, when she first discovered the power of words. Since then, she has honed her craft, exploring the depths of the human psyche and delving into the mysteries that lie within the heart. Inspired by the greats such as Ani DiFranco and Anne Sexton (to name only a few), her lyrical prose evokes a raw and visceral emotional response.   As a confessional poet, Stacy delves into themes of vulnerability, introspection, and personal struggles. Her poems offer a glimpse into her own soul, inviting readers to embark on a journey of self-discovery and find solace in shared experiences. Through her poetry, Stacy encourages readers to navigate the complexities and beauty of their own lives, offering a gateway to introspection and self-reflection.   In addition to her skills as a writer, Stacy is also a talented digital artist, bringing her visions to life through intricately crafted digital paintings. Stacy utilizes Photoshop to meticulously photo manipulate her images before digitally painting each one. She has been working in digital art for the last 15 years.   Stacy's journey as a writer and artist has been characterized by determination, perseverance, and a relentless pursuit of her vision. She is a five-time graduate, earning majors in psychology and English literature.   Stacy has had over 80 poems and artworks published in various magazines and ezines since 2006 (via a previous pen name). She was also nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web on numerous occasions.   When she's not engaged in her writing or artistic pursuits, Stacy can often be found perusing the local antique shop, where she finds inspiration in the treasures of the past. She also enjoys curling up with a cup of coffee and a good book, immersing herself in the pages of other writers' works. She travels quarterly and has her own library which is perpetually over-flowing. She lives and writes from a quaint little house nestled between the rolling hills of Kentucky.  Follow

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Her words pour out as if her throat were a broken artery and her mind were cut-glass, carelessly handled.

-Judy Grahn

Girl, Unknown

Iwatch the girl

With the red notebook,

Saunter in uneven footsteps,

Ghost of forty second street,

Park at noon, corner bench

Where her weary sneakers rest.

She says the world is fading fast,

Vast empty nest of illusion

Where the writers fall into

Dead wells of cynicism,

Too many rejection slips,

Said she once decorated the

Walls of her room with

‘No-thank-you’s.’

I asked her what she wrote about,

She said dead presidents,

The speeches they never gave.

Sketches of conversation,

Seemingly falling into the open wound

Of the universe, she said

She grabs all the lone, used syllables

Before they are swallowed.

She said some nights

She cuts the stars loose,

Watches them fall across

Roofs of shingle and trailer tin,

Just to have something to write about.

Said Anne Sexton would have been proud,

Her poet hands maneuvering the scene

Of Vincent, gluing Sylvia back to the scene.

And when I asked her

Why she wrote, she smiled

And said the words of her notebook,

Though obsolete as they may seem,

Were the threads that stitch

The world together.

Newspaper Clippings

And before me lives a decade.

The marsh garden fields of the 1920’s,

Men in top hats, refusing illiteracy,

The Round Table, lunchtime controversy,

Sinclair Lewis sewing their wings to the roost.

Women dressed in goose feathers,

dangling men between their fingers,

Feet twisting to the Jazz of dance halls,

To vie for the attention of a contest,

A herd of chickens pecking for corn.

Then a black and white photograph,

Auction junk of the bidders payday,

Thoughts and memories, a collage to rearrange,

I found her there, with a letter on the back.

"George, good news, the baby is okay,

I named her Rose, after your mother.

You will come back after the war, won’t you?"

Eyes shining, expectant orbs, I imagined them

A luminescent blue and prying, skyward.

Waiting in vain,

As if it took a whole century

To ask the question.

Where Life Is

We read about life that summer,

And friendship.  Words of Anne River Siddons

And Judy Blume jumping from commercial paper

To spiral around us, that atmosphere of lovers and friends.

How we’d cruise library shelves,

Hunting down words like literary vultures.

Pausing upon that big chair in the reading room,

A Buddha, a Shaman, I bent my head in

A silent séance of Melville and Emily Bronte.

Do you remember how love filtered through those trees,

The green, oh that green, miles upon miles

Of trees and wildlife and history, our ancestry?

How it swept into the car