Shadow Poetry


out of the darkness, they came

like lightning bolts of flame


we ran and ran, but lost our grip

beware, beware, that gradual slip


take one wrong turn, my dear

that’s all it takes, out there, in here


its not a choice, not conscious, at least

choose today, to ruin or feast



Shadow Poetry

behind the door

where there’s a little magic

there’s a little more


and if you can find a single reason

you can find it behind a door


like a butterfly’s wing –

you can’t touch it


but if you keep looking

you’ll find a key to fit


it isn’t made of gold or glowing

but if you listen ever so closely


it will speak into your fear

in wails and whispers, mostly


but beware, listen carefully

and start at step one


or one day you’ll wake up

questioning what you’ve done


in a place you don’t know

with more questions than one


like, where is all your skin

and why are you holding a gun?


Stream of Consciousness

washing basin of another sort

there’s a reservoir i find deep inside

a pool of mirrors, turned malleable

i swim there

dip my toe

lie on my back


forgetting the



of time


i visit

but i can’t seem to stay

not yet



if i dip the slivers of my soul


just for the slightest

of breaths


they grow

the battered





with new strength

scar tissue proving

i can do this

and so can you


believe in magic

believe in you



Stream of Consciousness

save a nightmare, feed a shadow

and by feed, i mean throw $3 a month at her OR pass her patreon link around like its a joint on 4/20.

I live in Mendocino County, peeps – those are some heavy duty miles.


How about like it’s an STD… Yeah, nope, definitely not.

News about Kim Kardashian’s bum? 

Never mind.


(just had the Cali fires and I live in Cali….. sooooooooo too soon)

The Good Word?

*head desk*



Anywho, I started a Patreon! I’m so excited! I got the advice to start a Ko-Fi, Patreon, or Buy Me a Coffee from a few YouTubers and Bloggers.

I like options. I’m an options kinda gal.

So Patreon it is.

What the frick frack knick knack is a Patreon?

You know how painters like EONS ago would get paid by an epic rich dude to just, like, paint? I’m sure it went something like this:

Painter: *starving* *really good at artisting*

Rich Dude: “Hey! You! Take this-” *shoves money and food at Painter* “and go paint.”

Painter: “Yay, life!”

Also Painter; *paints and doesn’t starve to death, spreads happiness through art and does weird artisty things*


I’m telling you, it went JUST like that.

But I digress.

A Patreon is an account where YOU can pay ME to survive.

Which sounds FABULOUS to me.

But what do you get out of it?

Well – stuff. Let me just show you part of my Patreon Page:


Screenshot (6)


Screenshot (7)

If you want a bigger view or if you’re interested, check my Patreon page out here:

Daphne Shadows’ Patreon





And yeah, pass this link around like it’s a message on a pigeon from a cartoon!


Thank you. 😁


*This message is Certified Panda Approved by my manager. 


Shadow Poetry

i’m rather raw

i’m learning and falling down and getting bruised on my way back up
but it’s okay for me to be naive
because i know i’m naive
and i’m just trying to find a way to live
without compromising my soul
without snuffing out another’s flame
without breaking to a point that i can’t put myself back together
i’m trying and i’m trying out new things
it’s extraordinarily uncomfortable and sometimes i can’t breathe
don’t want to breathe
too afraid to move
because i might have to notice how i truly feel
but i’m not staying down
or staying under the covers
because monsters live inside the places that i thought were safe

Daphne Shadows

Shadow Poetry


the world fell apart

did you notice?


i fell with the ashes

the soot crowned

me numb


i don’t know that i

ever got back up


beneath the rubble

living where they never suspect


with the shattered bricks

they left me under


a corpse

they never counted

a ghost

they’ll never see coming


they never do


we all fell down

did you feel it?


By Daphne Shadows



Shadow Poetry

Condemned But Unmovable

I am a broken home.

Empty halls and beds to roam.

I am forbidden to find the door.

Pay no mind to the blood on the floor.


The echoes, they lie,

An eerie nightmare cry.

The shutters are all locked.

Walls are shadow pocked.

No one comes to the door.

No, no visitors anymore.


I can’t breathe in between this madness

And this dreary, possessive sadness.

I am a broken home no one sees.

I am the gatekeeper without any keys.

I am a broken home no one sees.

I am the gatekeeper without any keys.


The decay and rust have taken control.

Scars and damage that compromise the whole.


But I will kick out a window and light every candle.

Because this brokenness is something I know how to handle.


By Daphne Shadows