Writing

Introducing Nia Doyley

Introducing Nia Doyley

Hello readers! My name is Nia Doyley. I am glad to introduce myself as a new intern here at The Art of Everyone. I’m a poet, a “hippie” and consequently, a dreamer. I am an English Major and a Spanish Minor at the University of Kentucky. I love literature and language of all kinds, hence my major.

I prefer reading historical fiction and poetry. My favorite book is Of One Blood by Pauline Hopkins. I am currently reading The Water Dancer by Ta-Nehisi Coates and A Cruelty Special To Our Species by Emily Jugmin Yoon. I have an affinity for all things ethereal and mystical. My favorite show is Dickinson, a show about Emily Dickinson’s life.

I am on break from in-person school, because obscurely enough, I love online school and I retained more information during it. I’m working with publishing on my in-person break because as a prospective writer, I noticed the lack of diversity in the publishing world. As a black woman, and being the optimist I am, I thought, “Why don’t I get into publishing?” So with this thought, I decided to propel myself into the publishing world. Eventually,  I would like to help other POC writers get published by others that look like them. 

Here are two of my many poems:

Contemporary Black Girl

We are the liquid cement
filling in the potholes on the streets, 
for the sake of everyone’s tires.

We are the piece of tape
on a cracked glass
we call America.

We are the makeup piled on
that does not match the color
of your skin.
It only covers up the pimples and the scars.

We are sunglasses 
over a black eye 
everyone is hiding.

We are curtains that go
over every window
when people do not
want to see what is going on outside.

We make our colonies like the ants,
working tirelessly to build our hills, 
while people step on us
with their leather loafers and snakeskin heels,
and expect us not to bite back.

This next one I just wrote today while in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It has yet to undergo any type of editing, but I hope it’ll help you understand the focus of my writing. 

existence in America

  1. who can withstand boiling temperatures.
  2. who can endure hellish, infernal pressure.
  3. who can make art of it.
  4. who can numb the pain enough to forget they are standing in a burning house.
  5. who can preach pretentiously to those who end up scarred or bruised.
  6. who can laugh hard enough that they can feel the sensation in their cheeks more than their lungs collapsing.
  7. who can say that’s just how the world works and get on with it.
  8. who can acquire fame so that flashes of paparazzi cameras blinds them to the flame.
  9. who can be distracted enough by watching those who have made it out in admiration.
  10. who can scorn those who remember they are burning.
  11. who can blindfold themselves.
  12. who can escape into fantasy worlds through mere imagination.
  13. who can lie first and say they are fireproof.
  14. who can crochet intricate quilts that have the power to extinguish.
  15. whose twisted kink is it to enjoy being scorched.
  16. who taught them it was enjoyable in this place.
  17. who can make sense of the world in which we live?
  18. who can make sense of it all? 
Photo of Nia

Alright, you will be hearing more from me later on. Speak to you soon reader!

Spaniel

Spaniel

I stare at my profile pic. I don’t smile. I’m not a bad person. The last bad thing I did, the last nasty thing, I did when I was only ten.

Chums

Chums

I’ve found a couch, said my chum. We’ll have more room to sit. And behold we took the couch up the stairs.

Art – Essential or Not?

Art – Essential or Not?

Is art essential then? According to my Warhol-inspired interpretation, art is individual freedom, drawing from a collective source. It is the need, the desire to create despite the challenges of one’s own time, it is an invitation to see beauty between disasters, listen up, slow down, but also live out loud. So, it is essential.

Leviathan

Leviathan

I look down to our hands, both wrinkly, more aged than I ever thought they’d be. ‘I just want you to know, I’m sorry.’ She leans in to kiss my cheek. We go back to our ice creams.

m • a

m • a

“However haunted their minds and echoed skulls and tremored bone, they dug for respite and rest…” This is the final of three flash fiction pieces by Shome Dasgupta.

Future Memories of Love

Future Memories of Love

“Soporific glint—hums of light permeated through their pores, tunneled beams like fresh-born hay and straw…” begins the second, hopeful flash fiction feature by Shome Dasgupta.

Kinetic Electrons

Kinetic Electrons

“What will it take to mend bones split and scratched and scarred…” Thus begins the first of three prose poetry features by Shome Dasgupta.

Art – Essential or Not?

Art – Essential or Not?

Is art essential then? According to my Warhol-inspired interpretation, art is individual freedom, drawing from a collective source. It is the need, the desire to create despite the challenges of one’s own time, it is an invitation to see beauty between disasters, listen up, slow down, but also live out loud. So, it is essential.

Leviathan

Leviathan

I look down to our hands, both wrinkly, more aged than I ever thought they’d be. ‘I just want you to know, I’m sorry.’ She leans in to kiss my cheek. We go back to our ice creams.

m • a

m • a

“However haunted their minds and echoed skulls and tremored bone, they dug for respite and rest…” This is the final of three flash fiction pieces by Shome Dasgupta.

Future Memories of Love

Future Memories of Love

“Soporific glint—hums of light permeated through their pores, tunneled beams like fresh-born hay and straw…” begins the second, hopeful flash fiction feature by Shome Dasgupta.

Kinetic Electrons

Kinetic Electrons

“What will it take to mend bones split and scratched and scarred…” Thus begins the first of three prose poetry features by Shome Dasgupta.

Seagull

Seagull

It starts at half-eight in the morning and finishes twelve hours later. Something has to be done.

Masked Man in an Unmasked Town

Masked Man in an Unmasked Town

At 82 I might as well have a sign on my back that says “Dead Man (if I get Covid) Walking.” I’m healthy and I walk at least 10,000 steps a day, usually many more but always at least 10k a day for the last two years; my wife gave me a Fitbit and I’m...

Kitten Heeled

Kitten Heeled

I slid them on my feet and tottered across the shop’s carpet. I declared them the most comfortable shoes I’d even worn.
The lie tasted like burnt sugar in my mouth.

Cosy

Cosy

I take the train to Barcelona. The train enters a tunnel. A baby coughs very lightly, an older man clears his throat. The tunnel, that’s where we all go, light or no light no one is to know. My amphibian throat gurgles, will the language spill out...