Happy Holidays

Happy Holidays beautiful  souls.

Cherish the moments and family time.

Invite over your friends and  family who are alone.

Time to  share your love.

Stay away from toxic people.

Much love,

Chrissy x

Being Greek

Being Greek means learning how to be clever

before you.

Learning about language and ancestry as a bedtime story.

Living in modern times

with an ancient soul,

in the Corinthian earth,





about me.

I make up my own rules

eat words while you sleep

awake before the birds

hunting poems out of my skull


under my olive skin,

kissing my trinity girls.


for My soulsistas @jwprebich @lexmeehan

#streamofconsciousness #noediting #amwriting #christinastrigas #poeticsighs #poetsofig #wordporn #poetrycommunity #poetrylovers #poetryisnotdead #poetryisart #canadianpoetry

tag you’re It

from my Instagram

Book Review: A Book of Chrissyisms

Thank you so much for this incredible review of my latest book.

Book Reviews & Musings

A Book of Chrissyisms

Author: Christina Strigas

Publisher: Clasid Consultants Publishing

Publication Date: September 19, 2018

Genre: Self-Help, Poetry, Creativity

Page Count: 121 Pages

ISBN-10: 9780995186583

ISBN-13: 978-0995186583

ASIN: 0995186588


A Book of Chrissyisms Website

Available for Purchase From Amazon,Barnes & Nobel,Thrift Books,Google Play,Jet, booktopia,bokus,AbeBooks, and other book stores.

My Rating: 5 Stars

About the Author: (From Christina Strigas Amazon Author Page)

Christina Strigas, a trilingual, raised by Greek-Canadian immigrants, has been featured by CBC Books in “Your Ultimate Canadian Poetry List: 68 Poetry Collections Recommended by You.”

Christina Strigas is the author of five novels, three poetry books, and one self-help/poetry book based off of her popular quotes that went viral on Twitter. She writes romantic love poetry in a stream of consciousness narrative prose. Her influences are Sylvia…

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I used to

pour out my words here

I used to let you define me

but all these labels are too much

for any girl to handle.  All these

late night drinking binges are

way out of my league. I’m home

relaxed, not thinking of you

waking up before my  alarm

with words and sex on my tongue.

It’s only been fourteen days

of not loving you.  The rest of

it does not count. I’m not here

anymore. I passed the highway.

I sigh your name.

Yet, my feet are planted

on another ground.

It’s not a writing competition

I’m not in the PTA

never was, not my scene.


I am full of insecurities

I’ve shown you all my


and you take them

throw them up

spit them at me

as if that is the answer

to this mess.

if you read my mind

your adrenaline is hard

but, my words,

that’s all I got; that’s off topic, it’s art.

not you, not me

not my books,

it’s none of them.


We may be magic together

but why don’t you ever

tell me how you really feel

about us? Skin is easy

to say, eyes are easy to read,

songs are easy to send,

everything  is misunderstood

off the shoulder tragic.


I’m never mad at you

after all these years

don’t  you know how i feel


I love how you are

I’m only unkind

when you let your monster