life of a georgia Artist

The struggle in life is real for so many reasons. Relationships. Papers for school. Hunger. Homelessness. So so many things in the world we struggle with. We keep saying at college: The struggle is real. But you know what it's small comparatively when you see the bigger picture of Nepal, Boston, and other areas of the world having so many bigger problems. With this in mind, most of us concentrate on our world, our bubble, and I do not judge. I have myself just been like, I am good,I am in my bubble and let me work on that. Well right now I am struggling with who I am. For the longest time I thought I knew, but with finishing college in a year, so many questions have popped into my head that need exploring. Am I the kind of person to go to France and try to get into a Creative Writing program, am I the kind of person who looks locally for a job and is happy living here and not leaving the area, am I the kind of person who wants to sell the house, move cross country, and work for a...

So this is a poem I wrote about a bunch of differnet experiences about love tied into one poem. It seems to stop us in our tracks.... Love. It seems to catch up in such a way we lose part of ourselves sometimes, which of course is not a healthy relationship,but im sure that is another poem. So I feel like love is a fragmented issue in my life. It comes and never stays. I have been in love a few times in my life and then I am alone again. I think I prefer the alone. I like to not weigh others down with traveling with me, or having to do what I like. On the other hand maybe I havent found the right person yet. Love comes in many forms and shapes and I hope everyone at least has love in their life if even just for a few fleeting moments. So here is Lost in him the wind touched her cheek , she knew she missed him. the sound of his heartbeat reassured her , she was not alone, but now he was gone and she was one again.   mislead by her own feelings of love...

You know you all wanted to hear some more of my poetry. It is called Debbie is putting off writing a really hard paper for college. So here is one,not sure if I have shared before but it is called My Voice My Voice My voice is the whisper I leave behind when I am gone, My words are the truths I know and the pains I carry. My words are the lessons learned, they are the best version of me. My spoken word is a remnant of me after I have left you, These words will fill your soul with my peace. They will leave kindness and joy behind, after I am gone. The wind carries my words across the skies, they fall on ears that need them.  They float as if to say to someone,  I am here for you! My words, they summon up courage and grace from deep inside, they bring back hope in the fear and let light into the darkness. My words are just words, but they can cut someone without me using a blade. They have power of good and ...

So there are moments in time which you wish you could freeze, when in fact they are so amazing because they do not last forever. As a writer I strive to capture moments in words and this one came to me the other day about my favorite place, which is obviously in someones arms. My Favorite Place by Debbie Ealer My favorite place is in his arms, where it is warm, where it is safe. Where I feel loved, there is no other place like this. I am enraptured with this feeling of peace and serenity. I am enclosed in the strength of his love. I love this place. I yearn to be in it more. It is a sacred place. A place where I go to find my calm. A place where I go to be alive. A place where I go to be accepted. A place where I go to be with him. In his arms, in that place, it is a wonderful, wonderful place. The feeling that I can be vulnerable, the feeling that I can be open, That sacred place in my heart, that sacred place in his. That place in his heart. That place in...

 So I was at the coffee house the other day and saw this lady. This poem is about her. I thought what her life might be like. I thought why she was sitting alone and just looking into her coffee as if she was actually looking through it. She seemed to sad. I hope you like this poem even though its a bit depressing. I have been so closed off for so many years that I was opposed to love. I hear you all saying, "how can you be opposed to love?". Well you close yourself off, you wall your heart in, and you keep people from seeing the real you, the true you, and you do it for so long that you do not even know love or how to love anymore. I could see sadness in her eyes and I imagined it from a broken heart. I imagined her sadness being connected to a broken heart and this poem poured out of me. Her Life,,, by Debbie Ealer She sat at the coffee shop, absorbed in her thoughts. She wondered about her life, alone in her thoughts she felt so far away from reality. Thursday c...

There is life and then there is LIFE. You have your everyday movements,the people you constantly see, your friends, your family, and then there is LIFE, which kicks you in the butt, which drags you down, which sucks you into the great abyss with no rope or ladder. I have noticed though that when LIFE gets to be to much, I take to writing. I am an English major who has almost finished her B.A., but it is the creative writing that gets my soul flowing, my life back on track and my dishearten heart back in line. There is this lifeline called writing. Writing frees the mind and soul to wander around on a blank piece of paper (or website if you are writing online) Writing allows us to be vulnerable without getting hurt. There is no judgement in our writing and it allows us to wallow. It allows us to shift through that LIFE and get back on track. Why do us writers need to write? Our souls are sensitive. Our mind are absorbing words and LIFE in grand amounts. Our heart works in differen...