ThePoeticPsyche

We are all made of stories.

This is a view into mine.
Every collage, every photograph and every word has been expressed with as much passion as possible. Inspired by the rawness of the fleeting moment and what it means, to be given life.

About the Artist

I am a writer and a creative
whose love language is the art of story.

I’m passionate about people’s healing, the importance of nature, the expressions of the soul and exploring creativity through endless mediums. Words have been a buffet of endless soul work that have saved my life more than once. Writing for me, is a lifeline.

I’m also a mystic, in love with the archetypes and symbolism of the tarot, among others things. Currently I’m pursuing a degree in Art Therapy and I love every chance I’m given to teach.

On this website you’ll find personal storytelling, lyrical musings, creative non-fiction and the fostering a dream. This is the beginning of birthing The Art of Story collage workshops and in my free time, I’m hoping to add to my list of published works.

Most of all, I want always to be creating the safety of a sacred space for myself and others.

Creative Expressions

  • The Tribe I Choose

    My people, run with the wolves. They are the creatives and the mystics of the world that reach beyond the limits of skin and bone, into the realm of the powerful. The expressive. The unnameable. The untamable. My people, read tarot cards and see the meaning of numbers in every non-coincidental connection they see. They…

  • And so, I rise.

    Collage inspired poetry. ________________________________________________ Rise to the richness of self-discovery.Rise to the stability of standing solid and unquestionable.Rise to the tiniest of lights on your path and set it ablaze. Rise. Rise. Rise. Rise Explorer! Out of the piles of thoughts previously slowing your progress.Rise above them and be born again.Rise and seek the vastness…

  • Make Me a Skin of Ideas

    I have a pond-like mind tonight.With koi fish lazily swimming about as ideas.Each one unique in its own existence.Each with the same glittering shimmer of pure beauty. And the verb in me,wants to be a gentle fisher. To grasp each of them,and with palms open,lying flat on my dripping hands,to lift them upas an offering…