The Quiet Archive Now Out!

So… apparently, I’ve released a book! After a few years of blogging, writing poems, submitting them to literary journals and anthologies, collecting plenty of rejections and, thankfully, some acceptances, I decided to gather a selection of my poems into a small collection. And now it’s real: The Quiet Archive is available as a paperback and…

The Quiet Archive

So… apparently, I’ve released a book!

After a few years of blogging, writing poems, submitting them to literary journals and anthologies, collecting plenty of rejections and, thankfully, some acceptances, I decided to gather a selection of my poems into a small collection.

And now it’s real: The Quiet Archive is available as a paperback and e-book on Amazon.

With my name on it.

Which feels both a little strange and incredibly exciting.

This is the first book in what I hope will become a series of poetry booklets, each centred around a different theme. I plan to release the next part, In the Wake of Fire, in November.

The Quiet Archive began when I realised how often my poems return to rooms, silence, memory, and the objects we leave behind.

To celebrate its release, I wanted to share two poems from the collection.

smoke rising in eucalyptus forest melbourne
Photo by Abdus Samad Mahkri on Pexels.com

The Eucalyptus Bay

I remember when we went to the beach
one day.

It was filled with white pebbles,
secluded in a bay.

The eucalyptus trees bent low,
almost touching the water’s surface,
as if whispering secrets
to the waves below.

I went out to swim,
far away from shore.

You watched me from a cliff,
your gaze steady as the tide.

Your feet dangled freely,
touching the space below.

I felt the cool water surrounding me,
the sun stinging my eyes,
blurring the sky.

I could sense how the clouds came and went,
carrying the past
like whispers in the tide—

a memory of us
that I could not find,

floating free in the ocean,
lulled to sleep by the current.

bench in the forest by the river
Photo by Râmbeț Ioana on Pexels.com

Where We Used to Sit

If you ever come by
the bench where we used to sit,

the one beneath the tree
where the frogs play quietly.

Breathe in the breeze
that flows by the creek.

Let the moonlight pass through you
in the summer heat.

Go on, sit down.

I saved you a seat.


If you’re curious and would like to read the book — and perhaps leave a review afterwards — I would be incredibly grateful.

Otherwise, you’ll just have to put up with me being unreasonably proud of having released my first poetry collection.

You can order The Quiet Archive here:

Until next time,

Jonna


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