Jamie Santomasso is an author from Kansas City, Mo. A writer since the age of five, she has recently returned to the literary arts after a 25-year hiatus.
Specializing in free verse and narrative poetry, Jamie takes inspiration from both life experience and imagination to paint vivid pictures of love, heartbreak, fantasy, darkness, and other residual works. Her works have received praise for their ability to evoke emotion, paint pictures, and tell stories that the reader can fully immerse and lose themselves in.
Ugliness tells a beautiful lie Truth's falsehood facade We speak in artifice And whisper loudly in fraud Cherry kisses and violet lilacs Flowers presented in full bloom Cut from gardens with machetes Wilt in darkness's hidden room Happy homes bleed ironic truths Closeted skeletons speak epitaphs of regret Verbal lacerations meet mental daggers Dancing a choreographed duet Conception's unexpected inception Lightning struck in glass bottles Fortune blows ironic kisses Weaving lessons reminiscent of Aristotle Gifts given laced in asterisks Caveats tell cruel jokes Acceptance tied to iron chains Signature required; my word is broke What once was had by maternal grasp Unmercifully reneged then taken My lips spoke in minefields and traps A choice that was forsaken Expected results may often vary Acceptance implied by hope's agent spies A cold hand's slap of indignation Resentment's fist rolls snake eyes Ostracized by abhorrent locution Reputations baptized in dirt Rejected hearts seek new starts Away from eyes that avert Mirrors absent of forgiveness Sing songs of damnation and blame Resolve sheds its tainted image New eyes absolve of shame Blank chapters tattoo splotched pages Uncharted paths carved in oak Unchained freedom walks at last Escaping Aesop's caustic joke
Coming of Age
We used to play. Daytime was for games Mythical quests to far off lands Epic wars behind enemy lines Rescuing the princess from her tower prison Every day, a new story We used to play. Nighttime was for the brave Sleepovers high up in the trees Ghost hunts deep in the woods Hide and seek until dawn Every night, we were free We used to play. Bicycles gave way to hand-me-down cars We no longer ran outside Our language became gossip Play fights became crushes Every day, we looked forward to the future We used to play. Days of school dances swapped for nights of last calls Sent out into the world filled with dreams Summer camp exchanged for 9 to 5's Learning to branch out on our own Every night, we dreamed of making waves We used to play. Another decade gone by Sports cars traded for minivans 401Ks and stock portfolios mapped our future Our children became our legacies Every day, reminiscing of our youth We used to play.
You speak of forgiveness and absolution Of beauty embracing sin Why are my transgressions then turned away And my soul not welcomed in Beauty tattoos your walls with masterpieces Depicting scenes of love and compassion Why then are my cries ignored And painted in hideous fashion Your word teaches lessons of gentleness Each life a gift given in grace Why then has mine been forsaken Taken as if there weren't enough space I scream inside your cathedral halls To mend the scars inside Why can't my pain be beautiful It seems you've turned a blind eye Why must I be the one to sacrifice To relinquish the prize I was given My faith is dying like a statue crumbling to pieces Your "acts of grace" will not be forgiven We die more inside each day Looking to you for a parachute But you deliver us empty jump packs And explanations that stay moot You hide behind the song of the masses Claiming your word is determinist Denying pleasure in burning my joy like kindle wood Just say yes, you little arsonist