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. 

Epitaph

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.  

Hypocrite

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