A blurred, outstretched human hand reaches forward through a hazy, warm-toned atmosphere, as if fading or disappearing. The image feels distorted and unclear, suggesting disconnection. The Broken Spine logo is in the top left, "@thebrokenspine.co.uk" appears at the top right, and bold white text reads: "Read Repost Reply #POEMSABOUT #SIGNALLOSS".

#PoemsAbout #SignalLoss starts Friday. Write interruption.
Break the line. Let meaning distort.

You're very welcome!😊

You're welcome, C.!

You're very welcome!

Nearly there.
Reader spots are 5 pounds. 5 minutes. No hiding.
Step up or support. Either matters.
#PoemsAbout #OpenMic #Return

All This Monday Morning Musings All This “Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you,that you be my poem”-Walt Whitman, “Poem of You, Whoever You are” A robin sings outside my window,calling dawn t…

merrildsmith.org/2026/04/20/a... @merrildsmith.bsky.social

Roberta Writes – Reblog: Day 1 of the WordCrafter “Poetry Treasures 6: Seasons” Book Blog Tour – Cindy Georgakas and Kevin Morris Thank you to Michelle Ayon Navajas for hosting Day 1 of the WordCrafter Poetry Treasures 6: Seasons book blog tour.

Roberta Writes - Reblog: Day 1 of the WordCrafter “Poetry Treasures 6: Seasons” Book Blog Tour – Cindy Georgakas and Kevin Morris roberta-writes.com/2026/04/20/r...

You're most welcome, Andy! 😊

Thank you so much for your kind words, Paul! 💙

Thank you so much, Jan!

Thank you very much!

Thank you so much, Sue! 💙

The film in your mind do you mean? In any case, thank you! 💙

Thank you so much, Rachel!

Thank you so much, Mike!

Zuihitsu: The Transience of Tints and Tones Heron in Blue, Merril D. Smith, Oct. 2023 Zuihitsu: The Transience of Tints and Tones Things I love– blue, of lapis, Chagall’s violinist, a September sky. Remember the azure of that September…

Zuihitsu: The Transience of Tints and Tones merrildsmith.org/2026/04/16/z... @merrildsmith.bsky.social

Thank you so much for your thorough and close-reading, John. The part you mentioned were lines I revised from an earlier draft.

Oh, a nice coincidence for my poem!

Thank you, John. It's something I've thought about often.

Thank you, Debbie!

NaPoWriMo, 2026, Day 18 merrildsmith.org/2026/04/18/n... @merrildsmith.bsky.social

You're welcome, John. You succeeded!

You're welcome, John. 💙

A poem by Debbie Ross entitled Gravity. A single short stanza writing with one or two words per line to try and indicate something falling. Text as follows: Gravity wins every time eventually silent unseen force weighing down bearing us dust-wards.

Hey #PoemsAbout #poetry friends @thebrokenspine.co.uk I’m sharing this wee mote for this week’s #gravity prompt. Thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and all who join in. Look forward to dropping in and out to check on contributions.

#poem #poetrycommunity

Dust-wards changes the whole tone of the poem to our inevitable ends. Wonderful, Debbie!

i’ve been writing you a letter about fail safes, about risks and appraisals, about the neighbor’s dog sometimes it begins with a moment of vindication that relieves nothing sometimes it doesn’t sometimes i write about the cold air— how it feels like gravity the weight of things that have consequence in the lungs how it reminds me of my refusal to retain anything i never talk about opening i don’t speak about freedom when i read it back slowly, carefully it sounds like distance masquerading as clarity there is no relief in it the dog keeps barking i keep trying to touch the ground

For this week's #PoemsAbout #Gravity, I'm thinking about the weight of things.

Thank you to the host @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk and to all of the other writers.

#poetry #poem #writing #PoetryCommunity #BlueSkyPoets

Original version of this piece:
bsky.app/profile/stac...

This is so good!
"It sounds like distance masquerading as clarity" 💙

The Metaphysics of Air Travel The aircraft does not conquer gravity. It bargains. A long argument of thrust and burn, aluminium insisting it has somewhere else to be. Time loses grip of distance And speed is no more than thoughts crossing a face, only a faint delay before meaning catches up. The body stays loyal to gravity, even at thirty-five thousand feet. Blood still settles. Sleep still negotiates. Hunger is dulled in tinfoil and plastic Yet something else shifts. A future is reached before it is lived Night is misplaced. Morning arrives early, apologising. The engines burn ancient light sun stored in oil, released to move us against the pull of the planet that made us. Energy hums everywhere, spent lavishly to hold us in this thin parenthesis: a pause written between departure and arrival, where being is neither here nor there but briefly, astonishingly, afloat.

inspired by some recent travel, here’s one for #PoemsAbout #Gravity many thanks as ever to @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk

Oh, I really like this--so much to think about and so many great lines, it's hard to pick one.

A short poem hinging on the fact that levity is an antonym for gravity.

#poemsabout #gravity