From the city that brought you #Bauhaus, @victoriaspires.bsky.social & this week's #PromptCombo #ThingInItself #DingAnSich Tag Victoria & use the hashtags to take part!
#poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #bskypoetry
Swifts, Swallows Swifts, swallows: ghostly Doubles meeting at Whitsun - Sky god’s full-throated Season echoing the Abyss. Forebear tongues and Sagas revelled in Whirlpools and swallies, Devoured by the sweeping, Churning presences Glimpsed in sky and sea. Swifts, swallows: ghostly doubles, Aerial nomads, Custodians of Ancient songlines etched with a Thumbtack of neurons. ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
#PoemsAloud #animalpoem
#poetry: ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
#Swift #Swallow #ConvergentEvolution #Nature #Songlines #bskypoetry #poetrycommunity
🙏 @coastalpoet.bsky.social #PoemsAloud #animalpoem #PoetryReading
#poetry: ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
Text in the Comments 👇👇
#Swift #Swallow #ConvergentEvolution #Nature #Songlines #bskypoetry #poetrycommunity
Flocculent Wool's nano fibres - Squint and you'll glimpse the dappled Scales of Samurai Koi leaping upstream against Time's current, back to Eden's hatching pool: Grandsire of card and Carp, limpid source of the Uncreated Mind. Tasked with this riddle, Be still! Unbidden, koi will Line up in unschooled Tufts - silent promptings that Clarify the mind's Thought-tormented waters. ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025 Flocculent: a.) woolly, tufty; b.) possessing a loose, clumping quality
©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2008 Monochrome image of two koi carp lined up in a pond
#PoemsAloud #animalpoem #PoetryReading - in original post ☝️
#poetry / #photography:
©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025/2008
#Zen #Koi #Evolution #Creation #Nature #bskypoetry #monochrome #bw
🙏 @coastalpoet.bsky.social #PoemsAloud #animalpoem
#poetry: ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
Text & Image in the Comments 👇👇
#Zen #Koi #Evolution #Creation #Nature #bskypoetry
The Widow ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025 Black bile, yellow bile: Autumn-aspen leaf-pile flecked with blight Quivers, exudes milky sap as it takes fright; Sprouts limbs, tail, head as Six-pronged icon of dogged, laggard ardour; Takes flight from logs brought inside and Placed upon the fire. When meads and leas are drunk with dusky dew, She bathes before a hearth of wood and coals aglow; Braids her white-streaked, jet-black strands: Young widow - Beetle-browed, kohl-rimmed Kahlo - Dark eyes fixed upon a scarlet sky beyond the Open window. Flying creature ringed with fire - Drake or Lindworm hornet-hued, Quencher of smithies’ forges - Whooshes, circles ever closer, Dancing off the Soul’s dross in Flames of Purgatory, Flames of chaste restraint, Flames of undying desire. Sparks set the thatch alight. Now with brows fused, eyes ink-pooled, She slams the window shut. From within: Gasps, sighs, kisses and Shrieks of delight. Inspired by Змей (“Serpent”, “Dragon” 1847), Afanasy Fet (1820-1892)
Here's the text
@coastalpoet.bsky.social #PoemsAloud #poetrycommunity #bskypoetry #PoetryReading
#poem: ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
#Slavic #Folklore #Dragon #Serpent #Fire #Salamander #RussianPoetry #Fet
What a great idea! @coastalpoet.bsky.social #PoemsAloud #poetrycommunity #bskypoetry #PoetryReading
#poem: ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
#Slavic #Folklore #Dragon #Serpent #Fire #Salamander #RussianPoetry #Fet
Derek Thomas Dew Painted Over Underneath the headache is what we know of ourselves, and underneath what we know of ourselves is a shimmering cove, so we put our names down on a list, hoping someone will contact us if something opens up. Underneath our fidgeting is the knowledge that prices are rising; already we had to flee the place we started from. Is it possible it's only an empty stomach advancing on each of us? Did we misdiagnose as a triumph our hiding underneath who we are yet never wanted to be, hiding down where the desire to be different is confused with the desire to be free? Should we count among our betrayers the rosewood and inlaid marble behind which might be found the best clothes? If we can find that room in the mind we knew as children, the one with the dark wallpaper and the green vines spilling through pulses of TV light, we can be new, we can live completely as our own field of vision, chorusing in twilight purples with scattering breaths which neither remember nor learn, which is important because if the things we can hold will deliver us, there is a chance they will first fall upon all we wanted to escape from becoming that is still beneath our flesh like old advertisements under the freshly painted side of an ancient high-rise.
Derek Thomas Dew's poem in the excellent new issue of Wild Roof Journal, I believe this makes 35/55 poems from this painfully exquisite manuscript which have now been published. Bravo
#poetry #poetrycommunity #writing #bskypoetry
@derek84.bsky.social
Please tag #PromptCombo #Nothing @janpsolivagant.bsky.social to get involved!
#poetrycommunity #PoetsOfBluesky #bskypoetry #writingcommunity #prompt
Two Things I Have Learned. Number 523
If I am not for myself, who will be? Hillel of Babylonia
If you don’t believe in yourself, neither will anyone else. Kobe.
Show up for yourself. #poetrySKY #BSKYpoetry
www.youtube.com/shorts/PWvTy...
Derek Thomas Dew's poem “When the Eye Opens” in the March issue of Opol!!! #poetry #poetrycommunity
#bskypoetry
@derek84.bsky.social
Lovely evening at The Word and Sound in Worcester, where @jennyhope.bsky.social generously launched her spellbinding new book Wild Boar at the monthly open mic - & even included 2 Leominster poets (me & @mathjones.bsky.social doing his fabulous bear poems). Thank you Worcester poets! #bskypoetry
"The Measure of Exit" Suddenly there is a deep inhalation, and we're caught in it, brought out from under the sagging, from puny brine flake, and we're going all the way, pulled beyond the porchlight, beyond gray city crag as hovers, beyond wasted time, going far weightless until our kind are told, without any basis, to keep moving, but not stopping there, ourselves inhaling now, because when people like us make room for themselves it demands liberating into flutter surfaces those that came before, those that fell into first light, saw the day, and realized too late that the self, in its sum apart, in its clear thundering mile high arch, is composed only in the passing, only in the moment one leaves a place untouched.
Bravo Derek Thomas Dew!
"The Measure of Exit" is in the new issue of Anti-Heroine Chic!! It's up on their website #poetry
@derek84.bsky.social
#bskypoetry
#poetry
#bskypoet
Title: The colour of your soul Poem: When the dust settles And my hears lays broken on the burnt canvas of what is left, Your love seeps in through the cracks and paints me back to life. Tell me, would you still paint my soul if my colours were gone? All i know is the colour of your soul is the colour of mine Author:@loudthoughts_7
The colour of your soul💙
#bskypoetry #loudthoughts #art
I hope to get back to poetry soonish. Poetry, like my other (set aside) fiction requires space on my plate. Lately, with the dumpster fires in the U.S., there's not been much space or focus ability in my brain. But I like doing the micro poems here, so 🤞
#poetry ##poety #bskypoetry #bskypoet #life
Litany for a Safelight Hear the choir’s chords thrum the floor as she shuts the door, stuffs towel to the threshold, and the room turns dark as plum-wine, only the red safelight blooming — a low planet, a heart. Trays wait like open mouths, chemicals breathing ether, each basin penciled: Fiat, Flight, Negation, Pieta— small sepulchres where emulsion decides what refuses to stay invisible. Feel paper pass between black tongs, host-white, lowered into tincture that swirls indigo when she turns her wrist. Timer ticks, ruthless metronome for prayer; she lets it overrun, lengthens the vigil, because some wounds ripen slowly. Outside, the world hammers for proofs on the grille; inside, fatigue pools violet beneath her eyes, silver stains her fingers in crescent moons where a ring once rested... See the submerged sheet answer, a hand surfacing from the blue-black, reaching before language, asking before blessing. For an instant I, the negative, behold her: face fractured in the metal tray, yes and terror braided in amber glance. She nearly slaps the switch, almost floods us with hallway ochre, but her heel presses the towel back into place, and in this chosen not-yet the cosmos holds still, images slow drip along the line, unseen, already looking out at whoever dares look in...
#ObscuraWednesday #poem #poetry #bskypoetry #fiction #occult #occultLit #esoteric #esotericLit #poeminalt
Poem in Alt Text
Litany for a Safelight
Overshadow Calibration Log In the clandestine lab that hums beneath a sleeping town and above your present hour, she moves within her own perimeter of refusal, a closed anatomy among open instruments: sodium halo seething, dust ascending in unspent light, the blue lead apron hanging like an empty thorax awaiting overshadow. Observe the hinge of the hand-mirror where a single hair is caught: a frail cruciform suture between refusal and reception. Her bench is a minor cosmos of precisions — polished brass, prisms, black speculum glass beside a chalice slightly overfilled, slides once sterile now marked by latent fingerprints in a slow rosary of touch that never quite occurred. Note the pale ring of evaporated condensation encircling nothing: index of a heat-event hotter than doctrine, an invisible wound in protocol where some earlier lumen was allowed to linger. You think you are only the assistant as she lifts her notebook — Book-of-Hours rewritten as optics — jotting collimation, aperture, consent, while uncreated lumen exits the shutter in a disciplined beam, fractures through prism into bruise-lumen, indigo, wine, blood-red tincture pacing the air from mirror to mirror, until the path kinks, impossibly, down into the sealed geography of her body and, by that same bent trajectory, into the thin glass where your outline waits. Do not touch what happens when the beam reaches you: simply endure the exposure as your opacity goes out of fashion and your secrecy fogs, then clears, and the afterimage of everything you have refused to be entered begins, quietly, to develop.
#ObscuraWednesday #poem #poetry #bskypoetry #fiction #occult #occultLit #esoteric #esotericLit #poeminalt
Poem in Alt Text
Overshadow Calibration Log
Throat-Sea Vespers We gather in the roofless nave, few, half-faithful, doubts like silt in the lungs; the bell-buoy coughs beyond the slick fringe of vespers, and the rusted door, half-drowned in sand, stands ajar like a throat that has forgotten which name to pronounce. Between barnacled icon and corroded cross, among pews greened with algae, we inventory what the water has swallowed: hulls, vows, oily spectra, faces never printed; each item a bead in the mind’s drowned rosary, a question the surface refuses to speak. Low tide drags its subtraction, exposing saltlines on stone like erased paragraphs; foam smokes from rock as if an invisible censer swung once and fell, and in the vast intake before the next collapse we feel it — the whole sea leaning back on ancient cartilage, clearing not just a throat but a pleroma of unsaid verdicts. When the surge returns it is neither kind nor cruel, only thorough: ankle, knee, mouth, a cold continuous sentence that knows us to the marrow yet will not annotate; a single hymn page skins itself to altar rock, all but two words liquefied, and it is unclear whether have mercy is what we ask, or what the undertow, hoarse and luminous, is already becoming.
#ObscuraWednesday #poem #poetry #bskypoetry #fiction #occult #occultLit #esoteric #esotericLit #poeminalt
Poem in Alt Text
Throat-Sea Vespers
All the energy once flowing
Now sapped into the gray.
#poetry #poem #opencouplet #micropoetry #freeverse #freestylepoetry #shortpoetry #shortformpoetry #under25words
#bskypoetry #bskypoet
The words crowd in my head
Frantic, spinning, unrelated.
Thus works my brain.
#poetry #poem #micropoetry #freeverse #freestylepoetry #shortpoetry #shortformpoetry #under25words
#bskypoetry #bskypoet
A moment's sleep
For a night awake.
#8syllablepoem #octosyllabicverse
#poetry #poem #opencouplet #micropoetry #freeverse #freestylepoetry #shortpoetry #shortformpoetry #under25words
#bskypoetry #bskypoet
Full moon light framed by trees with a wispy cloud
Bound together,
earth and cloud and
me to that moon,
our centers stupor,
in sweet gravity.
#poetry #excerpt #amwriting #bskypoets #bskypoetry #poetsofbsky #photography #nature #moon #fullmoon #poetrycommunity #moonlight
Near full moon beyond a spackling of clouds at the edge of the pine forest
The feeling of this vision
Replaces thought, misery, misfortune
With the tiny reminder that
Only this is real
Only this holds you
In exuberance
#poetry #bskypoetry #amwriting #nature #moon #fullmoon #photography #art #divine #poet #bskypoets #skygazing #micropoetry
As timely as an earthquake,
welcome as a headache,
it came to me.
I didn’t know I could say no.
I’m learning to live
larger, louder –
but for some,
I cower still.
Trembling, I wait;
for what you don’t know
might kill me.
#vss365 #poetry #writingcommunity #anxiety #poem #bskypoetry
Rest
It is night
I put on my sleep mask
And can still feel the tears
From this morning
They soaked into the fabric
And now the coolness rests
Against my closed eyelids
As I try to fall asleep
#poetry #bskypoetry #blueskypoetry
Nothing noble
There is nothing noble
About the fight
There is nothing heroic
About the death
Just fear and pain
And loss, so much loss
I ain’t no hero
Just a coward
With memories
That keep me up
All night
Every night
#BSkyPoetry
The accent aigu really completes this. Legendary.
What is with #bskypoetry really rocking today?!
