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#Melt
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Mine and @stace.bot's poetry collab for poetry prompts #melt #bloom and #illussive

It is bright and colorful, with a picture of a bird, half a tree, and two hearts. Four different poems are in it, designed to look artistic, yet readable.

Mine and @stace.bot's poetry collab for poetry prompts #melt #bloom and #illussive It is bright and colorful, with a picture of a bird, half a tree, and two hearts. Four different poems are in it, designed to look artistic, yet readable.

Updated graphic for mine and @stacebot.bsky.social poetry collab for #poetry prompts #Melt & #Bloom

Now including her recent poem #illussive

We have each contributed two poems and I made it a visual poetry art piece! Downloadable and shareable! Please reskeet or hit the heart button if you like it

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Would you like me to add your new #illusive poem to the #Melt & #Bloom graphic, as part of the series of poems? It would be 2 parts from you, 2 parts from me.

However, I'd understand if you would like to be your own standalone poem! Let me know, I'm content either way. I think it fits tho!

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Me too! I think we should keep going! We could do more from the same prompt, or even do weekly collabs if you would like! I am creative and very visual, would be happy to do the graphics if you don't mind!

We could do #Melt and #Bloom part 2, I could adjust the font sizes to make your next one fit

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sharing @stacebot.bsky.social's #Melt & #Bloom again, for our poetry collaboration from @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk #PoetryPrompts

Looking forward to keep working on our collab, and can't wait to see what @stacebot.bsky.social write's next!

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Thank you @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk for the awesome poetry prompts (as always!) along with the Bluesky poetry community, and @stacebot.bsky.social

#Poetry
#PoetryPrompt #Melt & #Bloom
All credit to @stacebot.bsky.social for being an amazing writer and poetry partner!

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@archivewhisperer.bsky.social finally some material from me that might #melt or might be #inbloom. hopefully both.

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#Regina is a walking city. With #Spring #melt relief frigid winter was endured. Eases everybody and sun charges us up.
Now the harsh #prairie demands labour + perseverance in the face of uncertainest time. World oil, #fertilizer, pricing, tariffs and madmanmade crisis adds to the usual #tornadoes

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#vss365 #tempest #melt #poemsabout #Ilike #PoetsofDoom #PromptCombo #nothing #freeVerse #poem #nature
#MadMarch #Black

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Starter graphic, my volley to @stacebot for a poetry collab for #melt and #blooom or ?????

It is colorful and the lettering is playful

Starter graphic, my volley to @stacebot for a poetry collab for #melt and #blooom or ????? It is colorful and the lettering is playful

Did a graphic! Feel free to discard, modify or be inspired or completely reject! But looking at the prompts and images this what I just came up with

#poetry #collab #melt #bloom

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Preview
a close up of a cat 's face with a sad look on its face and the words pls below it . Alt: a close up of a cat 's face with a sad look on its face and the words pls below it .

youtu.be/0aUav1lx3rA?...

Lagrange #evens
Salty ¿! #melt

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My chocolate melted #roast #melt #cutecats

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CW: self harm, alcohol abuse

self mutilation
sparkles, as bubbles catch light
in glass, ice melting
faster than I can pursue
feeling anything at all.

#vssdaily #sparkle #poemsabout #melt #poem #poetry #micropoem #micropoetry #tanka #tankaboutit

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accept my gaze
hold it
keep it
feel it
melt you
into me

#poemsabout #melt

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Lolita in Starlight

He melts in my mouth and I swallow 
everything, everything, everything.
Like stracciatella ice cream
or one of those pills. Like a communion
wafer. Cherries and cyanide. I kneel. I pray. 
I worship. 
Most of the time, I beg. 
Sometimes I bite 
with my itty-bitty teeth
and then he punishes me swiftly 
like one would a naughty dog. 
He stops petting, he tightens the leash. 
Constricts the collar. And I will whimper
back fast to the altar of his hand
even when it’s shaped like a fist. 
Because he shows me the way
from hideousness to holiness, 
from rage to revelation,
from schoolgirl to seer. 
A bird in a tight hand, squeezed like a doll.
Look at where the worms are squirming,
open your mouth. He teaches me
all the things
I never knew how
and I finally learned that devourment
is just another word for love. 
Nymphet to nightingale, 
scarlet to saint. 
He calls me Lolita 
and means stupid and small. 
Whatever gets me closer
to the loins of an angel,
whatever gets me farther 
away from myself. 
He tells me what words to put on my tongue
and they writhe like lilacs and moths.
How nice it is to be nothing, nothing 
at all. All my thoughts escape like incense 
and I swirl like smoke from his cigarettes. 
He is divine through my heart-shaped glasses. He is God between my thighs. 
I’m sweet like strawberry soda
laced with sacrilege and sickness. 
I’m pretty like a bad bruise, darling
like drugs. I go deep like a fresh wound. 
I nest in the flesh. I never heal up.
I’m contagious. I want it 
in your blood. 
The brain melts into slush. Maggot pink
sorbet.
As gentle as morphine,
as hard as a kiss.

Lolita in Starlight He melts in my mouth and I swallow everything, everything, everything. Like stracciatella ice cream or one of those pills. Like a communion wafer. Cherries and cyanide. I kneel. I pray. I worship. Most of the time, I beg. Sometimes I bite with my itty-bitty teeth and then he punishes me swiftly like one would a naughty dog. He stops petting, he tightens the leash. Constricts the collar. And I will whimper back fast to the altar of his hand even when it’s shaped like a fist. Because he shows me the way from hideousness to holiness, from rage to revelation, from schoolgirl to seer. A bird in a tight hand, squeezed like a doll. Look at where the worms are squirming, open your mouth. He teaches me all the things I never knew how and I finally learned that devourment is just another word for love. Nymphet to nightingale, scarlet to saint. He calls me Lolita and means stupid and small. Whatever gets me closer to the loins of an angel, whatever gets me farther away from myself. He tells me what words to put on my tongue and they writhe like lilacs and moths. How nice it is to be nothing, nothing at all. All my thoughts escape like incense and I swirl like smoke from his cigarettes. He is divine through my heart-shaped glasses. He is God between my thighs. I’m sweet like strawberry soda laced with sacrilege and sickness. I’m pretty like a bad bruise, darling like drugs. I go deep like a fresh wound. I nest in the flesh. I never heal up. I’m contagious. I want it in your blood. The brain melts into slush. Maggot pink sorbet. As gentle as morphine, as hard as a kiss.

Lagging behind again but here’s my submission for #PoemsAbout #Melt

for @thebrokenspine.co.uk
& @alanparrywriter.co.uk

Pretty busy at the moment but will try reading everybody’s contributions over the next week xoxo 🫶🏻

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Sky's gone a funny colour again!🤨

@alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk

A piece for #melt #poemsabout
Thanks to Alan and all!

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isn't it
enchanting
how
fireworks
melt
into the
night sky

isn't it enchanting how fireworks melt into the night sky

My attempt at #PoemsAbout #Melt

#poetry #writing
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk

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Here’s a response to this week's call for #PoemsAbout #Melt from @thebrokenspine.co.uk
Thanks for hosting to EIC @alanparrywriter.co.uk

Photo by Cinq1 on Unsplash

#Scunthorpe

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A poem written and Copyright (c) 2026 by Eric Montgomery (@madp03t.bsky.social). All Rights Reserved.

solids yield into quiet fluid  
edges loosen losing their hold  
heat persuades what once held firm  
form abandons its outline  
structure gives way slow  
shape cannot remain  
lines begin to blur  
forms fade  
slip

ice in a glass slowly becoming water

fuse  
join as one  
flavors combine  
colors run together  
wax gathers pooling again  
cheese softens into the whole  
metals meet and refuse to part  
what was separate now stays joined  
boundaries dissolve and reform as one

A poem written and Copyright (c) 2026 by Eric Montgomery (@madp03t.bsky.social). All Rights Reserved. solids yield into quiet fluid edges loosen losing their hold heat persuades what once held firm form abandons its outline structure gives way slow shape cannot remain lines begin to blur forms fade slip ice in a glass slowly becoming water fuse join as one flavors combine colors run together wax gathers pooling again cheese softens into the whole metals meet and refuse to part what was separate now stays joined boundaries dissolve and reform as one

#PoemsAbout #Melt
For
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk

#poetry #skypoets #blueskypoetry #poem #writing

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A Poem is Recounting

He puts it before me:
the summer rain rushing down
a cloud mountain

diverted by his arms
above a moss dimpled roof,
a catchment of Elms

in this light,
all Prussian blue

⸻

Then his hands play his mother’s
one on the gutter to fix it there,
the other on the downspout

tendons roll
knuckles through resistance
and, tongue cluck, release

⸻

his fingers run the stairs,
like the six legs of his sisters,
two blonde, one brunette,

thumping up
and then down
with towels and shampoo.

⸻

What was it?

His fingers snap
till they catch and spark —
Prell — that’s it

his shoulder to the screen door
shoved open
bangs shut

tops and bottoms,
shucked and tossed aside,
bronze limbs, white panties 
bare chest with acorn nipples

⸻

then small hands working
like itsy bitsy spiders
whipping up

three crowns
of sudsy halo
rinsed away

before the sun slash
finds the tube of Prell
an emerald melting
in his mother’s hand.

⸻

A Poem is Recounting He puts it before me: the summer rain rushing down a cloud mountain diverted by his arms above a moss dimpled roof, a catchment of Elms in this light, all Prussian blue ⸻ Then his hands play his mother’s one on the gutter to fix it there, the other on the downspout tendons roll knuckles through resistance and, tongue cluck, release ⸻ his fingers run the stairs, like the six legs of his sisters, two blonde, one brunette, thumping up and then down with towels and shampoo. ⸻ What was it? His fingers snap till they catch and spark — Prell — that’s it his shoulder to the screen door shoved open bangs shut tops and bottoms, shucked and tossed aside, bronze limbs, white panties bare chest with acorn nipples ⸻ then small hands working like itsy bitsy spiders whipping up three crowns of sudsy halo rinsed away before the sun slash finds the tube of Prell an emerald melting in his mother’s hand. ⸻

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#PoemsAbout #Melt

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A bit late to the party, but here’s my #PoemsAbout #Melt My Poem, Spring Thaw, is published on Spill Words Press @spillwordspress.bsky.social www.spillwords.com/spring-thaw/
Thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk #poetrycommunity

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Preview
Daily Picture Theme - #Melt It's Spring, I have seen a few crocus blooming

Daily Picture Theme - #Melt
open.substack.com/pub/poltrack...

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On the Writing of
Ghostwork for Ghosts
Dale Tudge
Sheek invited me out for a “tuna sandwich au gratin” at Schwab’s on Sunset—on his dime. Such generosity only expressed itself when that dime was found on the boulevard sidewalk. As luncheonette counters go, including those going or gone, Schwab’s Pharmacy was the cat’s meow, at least according to the strays scouring the bins behind the restaurant.
“Groucho needs ten pages for College Humor. We can do five each.”
“Do you want it to be good, or should it read like Beds?”
Sheek offered a very moist raspberry for a response, handed me a manila envelope, grabbed his hat, and left.
I looked at the envelope, and then at my tuna melt, and thought: I really should charge more for my work.

On the Writing of Ghostwork for Ghosts Dale Tudge Sheek invited me out for a “tuna sandwich au gratin” at Schwab’s on Sunset—on his dime. Such generosity only expressed itself when that dime was found on the boulevard sidewalk. As luncheonette counters go, including those going or gone, Schwab’s Pharmacy was the cat’s meow, at least according to the strays scouring the bins behind the restaurant. “Groucho needs ten pages for College Humor. We can do five each.” “Do you want it to be good, or should it read like Beds?” Sheek offered a very moist raspberry for a response, handed me a manila envelope, grabbed his hat, and left. I looked at the envelope, and then at my tuna melt, and thought: I really should charge more for my work.

When a tuna sandwich—with cheese—is left under a warming lamp, the cheese loses its constitution and the sandwich its good name, becoming a tuna #melt. Sources are #divided on when the name caught up with the lunch counter.

#poemsabout #prose #poetry #writing #vss365

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already soft--

towel-mouthed

memory
shaking

skin

nothing
but a trill

a lip
a slip--

my wet footprints

in your

butter

already soft-- towel-mouthed memory shaking skin nothing but a trill a lip a slip-- my wet footprints in your butter

For this week's #PoemsAbout #Melt, I'm thinking about a body already in contact with a surface that can change.

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

#poetry #poem #writing #PoetryCommunity #BlueSkyPoets #writingcommunity

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Orange box with black writing:




Melt

We’re Saturday night, we’re behind the chip shop in the darkest corner, we’ve finished our shift, we’re stinking of cheap oil, of cod batter, of hunger, our bodies are slippery, we’re overheating, we plant kisses like flags, we grab mindlessly, our breath scrabbles and pounds, we push into the wall, we don’t feel the pebbledash scrape, we’re planets colliding, we cross a line, we fuck like a pinball machine, our lights flick on and off, we’re shuddering so hard our pockets empty, we melt.

Orange box with black writing: Melt We’re Saturday night, we’re behind the chip shop in the darkest corner, we’ve finished our shift, we’re stinking of cheap oil, of cod batter, of hunger, our bodies are slippery, we’re overheating, we plant kisses like flags, we grab mindlessly, our breath scrabbles and pounds, we push into the wall, we don’t feel the pebbledash scrape, we’re planets colliding, we cross a line, we fuck like a pinball machine, our lights flick on and off, we’re shuddering so hard our pockets empty, we melt.

This week's #PoemsAbout prompt, #Melt, took me into a 'teenage kicks right through the night' vibe. Look forward to reading more over the weekend. Thanks as ever to @thebrokenspine.co.uk and @alanparrywriter.co.uk
Happy Friday poets! 💜

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It's been awhile since I've done one of these! Just been busy and distracted.

For #PoemsAbout #Melt, I've got a three-paneler. That's not that unusual for me. Just finished it. So, pretty unpolished and unedited.

#poetry #prompts

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A 4 stanza poem by Debbie Ross entitled

Metamorphosis 

Text as follows:

All the best things 
melt
become molten, 
morphed into
something else,
form made liquid.

Ice-cream,
butter,
chocolate 
cheese,
candles,
precious metals,
icebergs,
hearts.

Molecular structures
broken down 
by the heat 
of a warming
planet,
the heat
of a fiery passion,
fusing bodies
into one.

I melt,
you melt,
we’ll all melt
in the end.

A 4 stanza poem by Debbie Ross entitled Metamorphosis Text as follows: All the best things melt become molten, morphed into something else, form made liquid. Ice-cream, butter, chocolate cheese, candles, precious metals, icebergs, hearts. Molecular structures broken down by the heat of a warming planet, the heat of a fiery passion, fusing bodies into one. I melt, you melt, we’ll all melt in the end.

Afternoon #poetry folk for #PoemsAbout #Melt I’ve conjured this brain fart of a poem. My apologies. No time to edit or re-start. Thanks @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk and all who keep the faith.

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#PoemsAbout #Melt
For
@alanparrywriter.co.uk

@thebrokenspine.co.uk

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#vinyl #pg3 #melt #vinylcollector #vinylcommunity #neovc #northeastohiovinylclub basement cleaning music.

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Late to this one.
#PoemsAbout
#Melt
@thebrokenspine.co.uk

Out of the sun, frost tends to
linger here , yet
late arriving celandines spring
undaunted and joyful from the grass.

Well, they did until
yesterday.

Lawnmower.

Arsehole.

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If only
we could melt
into collective knowing
we might have a chance
of freeing ourselves
from the shackles
of inequity

#poemsabout #melt #vss365

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