Words of a Stranger

About the Authors

Keanu (X)
A young lad with peculiar traits and tales
A sword less writer, photographer and a
graphic artist. Who loves adventures, long rides and sleepless nights. Galactic explorer who prefers sunsets than sunrise, cloudy skies and starry nights. Loves cold rainy days and enjoys a cup of milk and sweet treats. A weird guy with some talents and skills, a writer whose words randomly sprout out of nowhere. A follower of the poet named Atticus. An offspring of the almighty Zeus, gifted with magical hands. He drowns himself in poetry and books, jump from one fantasy to another. The man who loves galactic entities, galaxies, planets, stars, sun and the moon. To some he will always be the bad guy. For him, poetry is an art, where you can drown yourself but can save oneself, poetry is a temporary escape. For poetry is mysterious and never ending

Blaizziellaine (Y)
Blessed by Hestia, the Greek goddess of the hearth, she keeps everything and every
one around her warm. She is a ray of sunshine wherever she goes, whoever she’s with. Seventeen years old, but with a soul that’s older; as if she’s an old soul trapped in the 21st century. Loves the sky, no matter the weather; waits for sunsets by the beach, and sings with the storms when it pours. She smiles about the little things in life, like a butterfly or a hummingbird, or long rides. Loves to read, a typical poet, greatly influenced by William Shakespeare, Lang Leav, and Niholas Gordon. Her mom is also a writer, and she believes that the magical powers got passed on to her when she was born. It’s as if when she first breathed into Earth, she was already holding a pen in her hand and a notebook in her lap, smiling at the meadows and all the flowers that bathe in it. All the words just come rushing into her, and she just writes what her heart whispers to her, nonstop. Despite all that, she still seeks what all the other poets try to define, and that is love. She’s searched in the dark corners of the world, and even on the brightest ones. She’s asked all souls, young and old.  They don’t all have the same answer. Some say it’s home, some say it’s a moment, or a fleeting memory, and some say it’s warm hands and hearts that beat in the same note, in the same tone and song. For her, love is poetry. Poetry is everlasting, and mysterious, ethereal, and so is love.