Ophelia Rivers Poetry

Ophelia Rivers Poetry I’ve been described as whimsical, silly, weird, autistic, gay, strange, and decent at writing. I sure hope so! If you like, some of my posts.

Also, I offer to beta-read your work.

Oh no! My fish slipped and fell onto my poetry collection!
01/16/2026

Oh no! My fish slipped and fell onto my poetry collection!

Those are half-drawn violets, pink triangles... words I no longer wanted to use shot out. I like to make blackout poetry...
09/04/2025

Those are half-drawn violets, pink triangles... words I no longer wanted to use shot out. I like to make blackout poetry about myself, AND Nick Carraway ❤️

“I’m abnormal. Quick to attach.”

If you are too, never be ashamed! Affectionate hearts are powerful.

I was about to do it, but I caught myself!- Do what? Start another account online to share my writing, life, poetry, and...
09/02/2025

I was about to do it, but I caught myself!

- Do what?

Start another account online to share my writing, life, poetry, and to keep me accountable on my journey to polishing my work for publishing…

and then slowly fade out and abandon it due to depression.

When the urge to fix my life arrises again, I’ll generally start a new one. “This one will be the one!”

It’s happened throughout my 20 years! Instagram. Tumblr. Twitter. Bluesky.

It’s not going to be the one unless I MAKE it the one. Nobody can do that for me but me.

I want to be part of a community. I dream of having an audience. The work slips away from me. I fear presenting myself authentically, struggles and non-picture perfect professional writer-y moments and all. I’m tired of telling myself MDD keeps me from being an artist. I might not look like the others, and that’s okay! By abandoning my projects, I feel like I’m abandoning parts of myself to the dark.

I almost did it with this Facebook account! And this is me declaring NO MORE!

I want to post regularly. It’s going to be personal and artistic and silly and me. This is going to be the account to last me to where I want to go!

07/11/2025

Nine Ways of Rambling about Nick Carraway

by Ophelia Rivers

inspired by Wallace Stevens’ Thirteen Ways Of Looking at a Blackbird

….

I
Gurgling stream
by a house that quiet narrator would love,
Sunlight sparkling, in and out
Of leaves, trees, towns.

II
A collector’s The Great Gatsby
Unowned,
Now I have eight.
Soon I’ll return for the additional orphans
Soon ten.

III
A successful threat to my wallet.
Two more, lingering in the future
As Gatsby and Carraway do in
My mind.

IV
Boring speaker, no.
He’s gay, I mean it!
Isn’t it wonderful,
We can talk, not whisper of
Men loving men?

V
Not at the expected American Dream comment.
Obsessed, illiterate–
About as comfortable
As the Myrtle-smeared street.

VI
Fossilized, labeled in implications:
Ribbon-wrapped
‘20s paper, which started and ended queerness with an ellipsis–
Like the confessional text message
To the first girl this girl liked.

VII
In the eyes of a writer-god,
It might be intended to ring as sinful as blasphemy
Or as corrupt
As the sunbeam-sweet golden girl
Killer.

VIII
Carraway stands
Statue hand-animated, marble-white
Fitzgerald in his grave
And I’m correct
In having robbed Nick from him.

IX
I raise him from paper
Unknowing he loved him–
But I saw, with
Hidden love in each generation
Born ceaselessly–
This is what community is:
To see, to know, and to talk.

Here’s a snapshot of the Great Gatsby blackout poetry project I’ve been working on!! I’ve got like 15 different covers o...
07/11/2025

Here’s a snapshot of the Great Gatsby blackout poetry project I’ve been working on!! I’ve got like 15 different covers of the novel, and this is the one I’ve decided to deface. 🥰 (O gatsby! I must have you!)

I’ve got lots of found objects to attach, but I think I’m ready to tape this whimsical little fortune that resonated with me.

Where should I put it? 1, 2, 3, or 4?

07/04/2025

Morning! Anyone else having a lazy day in bed before some festivities tonight?

07/03/2025

title: fork loves the feast

the third sun shrivels up
and pops the orbital asteroid into
her mouth that year. been coming for a millennium.
the water-art, sparkling, is quickly condemned,
and it’s all a sign now, not recreation.

and naturally
it’s all lost -
changed, those
dependable ocean tides,
the room-temperature voices during the council meetings.

you survive for half a birthing season
until those hands salute and drag.

the star took the chance, and so shall we.

unless they would sit and raise the millipedes beside you,
drinking sweets,
these creatures are
not your fu***ng species.

don’t play dumb play despicable.

your eyes glue her cell to your tent.
the bare-winged bird
nods at the fishbowl’s piranha.
the sky is streaked.

she’s the third of the bunch, the youngest,
like your order amongst your kin.
you whisper of an army wrinkled with blackmail
and ask her name.
she’s too hungry to forgive you yet.

it ends here, first:
snapping her teeth off along the metal sheets,
you chew alongside her without question.

this is your first shared meal.

they say that this is how the world ends,
some celestial condemnation of doom,
as they try for killing blows,
and the tossing of bones
into the debris craters
to fill it up and invite it to belong
instead of condemning the extraterrestrial damage.
you stumble up those ranks.

son, the sun’s gone.
nothing really matters anymore.

the flesh-elves lick the meat juice drippings
and you know they can taste the secret prick of your finger
in the blood-red soup.
she’s too starving to thank you yet.

and just as she wails
before the first sun wakes–
the others are already starved.

two months later,
she escapes with you or dies
by second-sunlight.

you think she’d take you like a finger-food
protruding bone-claws and all

you think she loves you like a fork loves the feast

and you understand why that asteroid
glowed upon collision.

you half-forget escape,
forcing a kiss upon her lips
with your forearm,
begging
half your heart already digested,
and you feel whole.

Wanted to say hi to everyone! My favorite forms of poetry include freeverse, prose poems, blackout, especially of my fav...
07/03/2025

Wanted to say hi to everyone! My favorite forms of poetry include freeverse, prose poems, blackout, especially of my favorite books and old personal notes, visual/found poetry (I like doodling in the blank space, pressing flowers and collecting items to add to blackout pages!)

Here’s the ending of a blackout poem made of a sad journal entry to an old friend. Doesn’t it all boil down to

I love you /
acknowledge this /
You.

❤️

Hi Facebook! I’m Ophelia.Aspiring author setting up here! I write poems & stories. Sharing my journey as I accumulate my...
07/03/2025

Hi Facebook! I’m Ophelia.

Aspiring author setting up here! I write poems & stories. Sharing my journey as I accumulate my first collection with blackout, free verse, and sketched poems!

Here’s a little snapshot of the first illustrated post coming up. First stanza of an old poem about sensory overload and grief ❤️

Cacophony obituary

07/03/2025

Goooood morning from Seattle! It’s cool here this morning. Brr!

Address

Sacramento, CA
95616

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