Poetry, Tarot, and Twitter—Truth Be Told


It’s not like I haven’t been writing poetry, although I haven’t written as much lately as in the past. Throughout my life, there always have been periods of time where the poetry, in verse form, is slow.

But if you’re a poet, you know that the poetry always expresses itself in one form or another.

A lot of my poetry writing now comes in the form of interpreting Tarot cards for readings. Tarot is symbology, pure and simple, The language of Tarot and the language of poetry is the same for me.

Both Tarot and poetry are a form of expression for me. My worldview plays an important role in how I interpret the cards and the words I use, just like when I write a poem. The worldview for both come from my soul as informed by my relationship to the unseen.

God is a word I have used to describe this unseen force, but I have enhanced my concept of God over the years. The Divine/the Universe are also words I use to describe where I get my inspirations from.



But most importantly, I understand that the separation between The All That Is and me is indistinguishable. I belong to that larger entity. That entity is me.

I am so indiscriminate when it comes to where i write. I have papers stuffed in drawers of things I have written, I used to try to keep everything, but over the past ten years I discarded much of this clutter, including journals I wrote when I was an adolescent. Anything worth keeping I tried to put on a hard drive So whatever I have left, I’m going to put some of it on this blog, little by little. I’m going to to identify which is which,  but I will intersperse it with new writings as I do them.

Also, I have a lot of poems on Twitter that I have written in various accounts that I had not made clear belonged to me until now. These accounts were places I could hide various parts of me. These days I feel more whole than ever before and I feel more secure to freely share who I am. With that in mind, I will be remixing my poetry tweets and sharing them here as well.

Today I feel as if this is an ending of a chapter and the beginning of a new one.

UPDATE (1-31-2023): As of this writing, I no longer have poetry Twitter accounts, only the one account for my Tarot activities. It’s been more than a year now that I deleted True Life Poetry and Infinity Xpress. Just wanted to clear the air. 🙂


Ms. Joyce Tarot


I don’t think I have ever made it explicit here on this blog. But I do Tarot readings!

I’ve been doing this for a few years now. I post a general reading-of-the-day on my Tarot website, on my YouTube channel, and various other places on the internet.

I also offer personal readings. You can purchase them separately or else you can join me on Patreon. By becoming a patron, you can get benefits such as monthly Tarot/Oracle card readings, weekly Tarot horoscopes for all zodiac signs, and much more.

If you are interested in any of that, check out the links below.

MsJoycetarot.com (Website)
Book a Tarot Reading
Become a Patron
Subscribe to My YouTube channel
Follow Me on Facebook
Buy Me A Coffee

In search of cherry blossoms (memorial edition)


(This post was originally published April 19, 2014. I’m reposting it as a memorial to my mom, who passed away on August 21, 2019. My sister and I were honored to be at her bedside as she made her transition. It was a beautiful moment that I will never forget, as is this moment in time among the cherry blossoms.)

This spring has been a little chilly for us in New Jersey so our famed cherry blossoms still haven’t reached their peak bloom. But I visited Branch Brook Park in Newark anyway this morning after helping my mother run some errands. Branch Brook has the largest collection of cherry blossom trees in the U. S. but today in some spots, the display was a bit anemic …

IMG_1057IMG_1019Some trees, though not in full bloom, were lovely nonetheless …


IMG_1096IMG_1022Yep, that’s my mom. She’s 87, which gives me a little hope for longevity.

Of course I had to throw in some random selfies …

IMG_1034My mom learned the word “selfie” while watching the recent Academy Awards, so she was happy to take some with me …

IMG_1043By the way, I just love the type of people who kindly offer to take pictures of you with your own camera. (Why do they do that, I can never be so bothered. Shame on me.)

IMG_1094Some out-of-townies asked us directions to the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart, which was further than walking distance from where we were in the huge park at the time. I had to pass it on the way to driving my mom home, though, so I stopped to get a few shots for this post. It’s the fifth largest cathedral in the U.S.IMG_1112IMG_1105


All photos by A. D. Joyce.

©A. D. Joyce, 2014

proof of concept


i wanted to believe the concept
to know that the mirror of air
reflected something back
that the hope of becoming a life
would not be miscarried or aborted
that in the end
i in the nursing home
would not wonder
why i am there sitting
on a worn brown chair

i needed the proof
that fits and starts
could become conclusions
i needed the numbers
the operands
the equation
the four parts equally divided in two
if a then b
and if b
then all things are possible

i had to know
i had to know
i had to know
and you showed me

©A. D. Joyce, 2019

shoures soote


there was once a time we elite
knew what that meant
and I once believed i was that

probably the last of my generation

even so
was it ever the way i remember it

i forget the color of your eyes
downcast as they are
caught in the glare of your cell phone screen
your conversation is an enigma
of iconery and shorthand
your voice the chime of bells
and musical phrases
never songs

i soften the hard ground
with my faulty memory
the smell of dirt
the butterflies the bees
where are they now

I thought i saw you yesterday
a college student
but how could that be
you must be as old as i am now

©A. D. Joyce, 2019

the life


when the story ends
all the highlights told
life still goes on
the everydays
the good and the bad
repeat repeat
shadows grow longer
love grows deeper
or maybe love fades
happy ever after
sad thereafter
sometimes one
sometimes the other
when the story is written
on the pages
the life is left
to the imagination

©A. D. Joyce, 2018