Elle S

@ellespells.bsky.social

950 Followers 876 Following

Lifelong Poet. Author-in-Becoming. Community Lover. Creative Instigator. Plant Slut. Constantly unfolding. Probably should be writing. She/her.

Broken shards of history hide in gardens of people no one remembers anymore I run a tentative finger along soil softened once sharp edge what distracted the Roman to burn their dinner so badly they buried it pot and all Did joy sweep in unexpectedly hands overflowing with wonder begging to be held? Did love come dressed in grief so harsh, so heavy even to glimpse that burnt shell of what was that shade of what could not be saved was a wound they could not bear only bury? When their fingers tore at the earth were the digging a grave for hope? Or planting a seed and laughing all the while? -L.S.
Don't you know, my love? We're all just saving each other with our silly little crafts and words woven into poems, songs, prayers, possibilities and impossibilites sculpted from our souls & traveling the globe at the speed of connection cobbled together by cables sunk to the bottom of the ocean (and sometimes nibbled by sharks). How strange, how sacred to be strangers all tangled up in life together, finding ourselves and saving each other with our wild, weird little artistries and the magic we make when we dare to share them. ~ L.S.
Image reads My apologies to every plant I ever repotted without whispering to your trembling untethered roots, "Even though it seems like everything you've ever known has been torn from you, you are safe, I promise. You just outgrew your pot. I know you thought you'd found your forever home, but it wasn't big enough to support the magnitude of who you are becoming. So it wasn't safe for you to stay there anymore. It was stifling you. The new pot I'm putting you in has everything you need to keep growing even more beautifully into yourself. Of course, you'll need some time to adjust. You might wilt, lose a few leaves. It's totally natural to grieve an ending. I know you didn't see this coming but trust me, you're going to love your new pot I made it just for you." I am uprooted. Untethered. Sorry. -l speller
Image is a poem written in white text on a black background. It reads: I used to feed you love now I have a hopeful collection of wishes I whisper to the wind as if she'll carry them to you. I hope you're so happy. I hope your happiness fills every part of you that has ever felt empty, or alone, or not enough. I hope you don't wonder after what could've been, but I hope you remember what we should have been. I hope you remember how deep, and real, how beautiful love can be when you let it. I hope you turn this awful ending into something that feeds your soul and your dreams. I hope you decide to let your fear make you brave enough to reach out instead of shrinking away. I hope you decide to let the words be wrong because you'd rather try to say what's in your heart and on your mind even if you don't know how. I hope you choose to trust your voice instead of biting your tongue. I hope you choose to let yourself be heard. I hope you never forget that you always deserved to be seen, to be supported, to be loved, to be wanted, the most. I hope the most for you. -l. speller
Image shows a poem printed in white text on a black background. The unnamed poem reads: I can only breathe underwater you struck like an earthquake shattered my world made me a mermaid who doesn't know how to swim without kicking feet I don't have drag myself through this sea of sorrow with desperate hands reaching for rippling light half remembered reflection of a world I used to know instead of falling I'm suspended cannonball the surface breaks displaced I'm gasping for water like breath I'm drowning in the lack of your depth - by l. speller
You ruined pain au chocolat even strawberries taste bitter now but I've been heartbroken before so I know that one day not today but one day in the future that looks so unclear to me now I will eat a strawberry and I won't even think of you until later that evening or a few days down the road when I realize what I've done like the cigarettes I smoked for 20 years that I don't crave anymore only realizing days, weeks after hard things that I didn't even want one in that awful moment and even in this lack of you I don't even want one I don't even want you I just want to enjoy pain au chocolat in the sunshine with my coffee without thinking about your face
A black and white cat is curled up like a quarter moon asleep on a large brimmed straw hat with leopard print trim around the edge. Most of his spots are on his back and the top of his head. His fluffy belly is exposed in what looks like a happy sprawl. The belly is absolutely a trap.
A bright pink, many petaled crab apple blossom blooms on a blurry tree branch surrounded by lush green leaves. In the bottom right corner of the image, it reads "Flowers always remind me how quickly a bud of hope can blossom into something extraordinary."
Image reads: Your doodles are art. Your comedy is art. Your embroidery is art. Your ceramics are art. Your music is art. Your weaving is art. Your short stories are art. Your woodworking is art. Your dancing is art. Your crafts are art. Your poetry is art. Your photography is art.
Image 1: A single, globe-shaped bud on a tall, slender stem. The bud is beginning to open revealing a cluster of dozens of tiny, green and purple petals shaped like closed tulips inside. The background is a green blur of out of focus garden grasses.
Image shows a quote formatted to the center right of the page in dark green text. Line art of leaves on a branch are printed in the top left and bottom right corners in layers of light and dark green. The quote reads: "A poem cannot stop a bullet. A novel can't defuse a bomb. But we are not helpless. We can sing the truth and name the liars." - Quote by Salman Rushdie
Image reads: I am a collage of all the art that has ever moved me, my life has been saved, and sustained, by libraries and the stories in them... by authors, playwrights, and poets I will never meet who wrote the words I needed and wove new worlds out of them... by musicians who play melodies, and harmonies, and bass lines that sing, and scream, and cry, "you are not alone in this..." by artists who seek to capture the wonder of the stars, the majesty of the ocean, the depth of our tangled roots... by those who seek to give form, and sound, and life to what else is possible... I have been saved, sustained, shaped, and spurred onward by the grasping, reaching, hoping, raging, dreaming hands of those who dared to ask, "What else can I make of this?" And dreamed a new answer. So rage, and sing, and fight, and cry, and dream, and make something with it, beloved. You were never meant to hold it all alone. You are not alone.
A white cat with big, black spots all over his back has assumed the loaf position on a shaggy, grey-blue bath mat. He has a black tail and a black "cap" on his head that comes down in a V to make a point over each of his eyes. His stunning yellow-green eyes stare disdainfully at the camera. He would like to know what you think you are doing here.
Image reads: "Poetry is a liberative language, connecting the fragments within us, connecting us to others like and unlike ourselves..." - Adrienne Rich Line art drawings of almost eye shaped leaves on a branch are printed in the top left and bottom right corners of the image, framing the text.
Image shows a protest poster featuring a red rabbit making intense eye contact with the audience. Text reads: Economic Boycott. Don't buy stuff Friday Feb 28. We have power. No: Amazon, Walmart, Target, Fast Food, Gas. Ok: Small Business. Use cash.
A grumpy looking Red-eared slider turtle sits on a rock that is turning green from dried algae. The turtle is giving the photographer some serious side-eye and mean mugging for the camera.
Image is of black text on a white page, it is a poem written by sara rian. I wonder what grief would write about me if it scribbled onto paper each night after I've finally fallen asleep. would it say I come in waves. how it is struggling to grasp that it will live with me forever. sometimes she can be so gentle. other times she grabs me by the collar and tries to drag me out of her bones. I wish she knew I didn't cause this. I am just the part that comes after. she doesn't welcome me the way she welcomes love. but one day she will see that I belong here too.
A black and white spotted "tuxedo" cat sleeps in a beam of sunlight, front paws hidden under the chubby chipmunk cheeks of his winter floofening. In typical cat style, his body rests on a cozy blanket, his head upon a box.
A pale, middle-aged caucasion woman with dark blue hair looks at the camera and smiles. Closer to the camera, and in front of the right side of her face, she holds a small paper crane between two fingers. The paper is striped and the folds of the crane make the lines appear to run in different directions. Behind the woman's head, you can just make out a painting of a forest landscape.
A wet, red clay drainage tray is drying on a glass cake stand in front of a brown tiled wall. An opaque shot glass stands behind it with springs of Rosemary in water. The drainage tray most resembles a clay play with a thick, raised, if uneven, edge.
Image shows a roughly painted leaf, positioned as if falling down, with the stem at the top. Obviously painted by an amateur, the leaf is all outline and brushstrokes for veins. The following is printed in the artist's handwriting around the outside edge of the leaf so that the text runs around the whole leaf. "I spilled ink trying to fill my new pen and spawned an experiment with brush and ink--a journey I would never have sought on my own. Maybe I will write poetry between the lines. *DAY 5 OF MAKE ART EVERY DAY 2025*"
The image shows a piece of paper covered in handprinted text in pink and orange. It reads: Day Three of Making Imperfect Art Make Art Every Day 2025 Storycubes: Alien. Flashlight. Die. Hot Air Balloon. Question Mark. Bridge. Fire. Tree. House. Below that is a poem written in orange text surrounded by a green bubble It reads: Alienated I fly under the cover of night with only the fading flames of the hearth to illuminate my roots, I wonder... Is there still a bridge home? On top of the paper are 9 "Storycubes" or dice with images on them to inspire storytelling and other creative play. The "rolled" images facing the camera are listed above.
Image shows the letters of the alphabet from A to Z. Each letter is written in a different shade of blue, green, pink, or purple and has been given ears and eyes to stylize it to look like a cat. The artist is obviously not a typographer kind of artist.
Image shows white text on a turquoise green background. The text reads: "You say 'amateur' as if it was a dirty word. "Amateur" comes from the Latin 'amare,' which means to love. To do things for the love of it." - Mozart in the Jungle The words "amateur" and "means to love" are in a light pink text so they stand out from the rest of the quote.
Image shows a small cartoon dragon holding a paintbrush. The dragon is sitting on a pile of treasure that includes small artworks scattered amongst the coins and gems: a painting, a bust, and three balls of yarn with knitting needles poking out of them. The text on the image reads: You are not a dragon. Stop hoarding your art. The world needs your magic.
Image shows a poem handwritten in black cursive writing on lined paper with water droplets drawn haphazardly in the background, as if it were raining. The paper reads: Anxious, My heart thunders gallantly, silently, yet thundering all the same like lightning has struck but without the magic of the rain.
An untitled poem presented as black text on a white background reads: Rage like blood molten and churning like lava rising in the back of my throat an explosion of bile and guts and every lie I was ever fed as truth lacerating my tongue like a mouthful of broken glass. (written June 24, 2022 in response to the US Supreme Court overturning Roe vs. Wade)
Image shows the text of a poem titled "Goodness Grief" by Leah Speller When your grief is a cavern where you can hardly take a breath lay yourself up on the Earth and let her hold you in all your pieces. Wade your tender heart out into the water and let the stream, the waves, the tide wash your wounds. Take yourself to the trees barefoot amongst living roots arms reaching like branches and let the breeze carry your yearning to the sky where there is space for all your grief and all the love that makes it too heavy to hold.
Image Desciption: A white woman with blur hair and blue eyes is wearing a faded denim button down shirt. The top buttons are undone. She is wearing the straps of a black canvas shopping bag over her shoulder. She is holding the bag itself to face the camera like she is displaying a prize on an old game show. On the bag is the outline of a blue square with the words "freedom to read 'em" printed inside of it in white block letters.
Image description: Picture shows a stack of four books piled on top of each other with the spines facing the camera. From the bottom of the pile to the top, the books are: "LIT * Life Ignition Tools" by Jeff Karp with Teresa Barker "The Ritual Effect" by Michael Norton "Big Magic" by Elizabeth Gilbert "Ignore Everybody and 39 Other Keys to Creativity" by Hugh MacLeod A fifth book, "Creative Quest" by Questlove, stands on top of the pile of books with the cover facing the camera, suggesting it is the most important in the bunch. Stickers at the bottom of each book's spine show they are library books.