#shortpoemsunday @tomsnarsky.bsky.social

#shortpoemsunday @tomsnarsky.bsky.social

They Eat Out • Margaret Atwood
Atwood's devastatingly cynical poem from 1974 makes a great #shortpoemsunday. I like her poetry the best of all her writing.

Equilux Our oceans Our choices Our oceans Black rain trapped in a self -driving car Let’s hope I don’t mess this up America

#shortpoemsunday

A World Where it is a wrong to be healed and restored. All must be broken, wounded, an ever open scar, that bleeds food for maggots and all skulls are sharply defined beneath thin skin.

For
#shortpoemsunday @tomsnarsky.bsky.social

#shortpoemsunday

#shortpoemSunday

Maggie

There was a small maiden named Maggie
whose dog was enormous and shaggy;
the front end of him
looked vicious and grim -
but the tail end was friendly and waggy.

Anonymous.

Isn't that wonderful on a wet, miserable day?

#shortpoemSunday

Hutain

I tell myself that it's all wrong -
too early for the birds to sing
and primroses do not belong
in bleak December. They're for spring.
All this should make alarm bells ring...
but from the thrush's speckled throat
a miracle is issuing
with joy and hope in every note.

JWH

#shortpoemsunday @tomsnarsky.bsky.social

#shortpoemSunday

I Heard a Bird Sing

I heard a bird sing
in the dark of December
a magical thing
and sweet to remember.

"We are nearer to spring
than we were in September."
I heard a bird sing
in the dark of December.

Oliver Herford.

(Delightful!)

#shortpoemsunday

Autumn Shadows

Leaves shroud the path.
At dusk, lurking shadows
fox me like ghosts,

shadows of the past
foxing my memories,
fragile as leaves.

Fox crosses my path,
a living shadow,
leaf-russet.

(From my collection 'Striped Scarves and Coal Dust')

Come, said my soul, Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,) That should I after return, Or, long, long hence, in other spheres, There to some group of mates the chants resuming, (Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,) Ever with pleas’d smile I may keep on, Ever and ever yet the verses owning–as, first, I here and now Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name, – Walt Whitman

#shortpoemsunday

#shortpoemsunday

I read into things
So closely that I could hear
Each tap of the keyboard and
The weight behind each press.
I read into the titanium that is
Used in trucks.

I see the atoms and molecules
Of emotions and I'm their creator.

I am well read.

The Reaper by Fernando Pessoa for #shortpoemsunday

Monster Alarm The church bells rang on the hill above my houseWhile the children played below.The youngest from another neighborhoodAsked me what it was.”That’s the monster alarm,” I said.&#822…

A monstrous little something for #shortpoemsunday, which originally appeared in Last Leaves Magazine.

#writing #poem #poetry #booksky

#shortpoemsunday

Othello

Jealously, zealously,
sad Moor of Venice, he
foolishly credited
Iago's vile lies,

strangled his blameless wife
unjustifiably,
guilt and his dagger
made swift his demise.

(A double dactyl poem from my collection, 'Striped Scarves and Coal Dust'.)

Dreams By Langston Hughes Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

#ShortPoemSunday #music #poetry It’s a cold day—colder days ahead too, & yet here’s Langston Hughes with a short, simple, & yet important statement.

A version performed with music here: frankhudson.org/2025/02/14/l...

#shortpoemsunday

A farmer's son,
what did he know of war?
A sniper's gun,
a grave far away from home,
a plaque on the chapel wall.

(In memory of my mother's cousin, William John Evans, of Penuwch, Ceredigion, killed in 1944 and buried in Ranville War Cemetery. From 'Deep Roots, Wide Branches.)

For #ShortPoemSunday #shortpoemsunday. 14 lines is short, right? Here's "No Surprise," a love sonnet from my chapbook Like an Astonished Magician:

#shortpoemsunday

He lied before he left.
Hid his true intent into a ghost
That way the difficult conversation
Never had to happen. I've learned
To listen to what ghosts say
To avoid future ghosts and ghouls.
To avoid the pain.
To avoid everything. Now I'm
Left with the lies beside the
Open door

#shortpoemsunday

I can see the mist
Crawling up from the ground
Kissing the sky and moon
The nature's envy shown in
Contrasting colors. A
Northern Lights show.

MATT W. MILLER foreword by Andre Dubus III 2222 CELUU Tender the River POEMS

Sapphic Merrimack snaking through sighs of craggy floe and log, whispering that spring may shake blue hair from out the hillocks' slow skull of winter. Yet of the clawing freeze and water streaming by banks and grasping trash and rusted truck parts that sink though mud and poison blood and bone, the black river flows like nothing will matter, happen, change, or even has ever been or ever not been. Time may exist or it's some cracked Edenic covenant, human built, and just a machine that's building machines, making all estuaries - where our salted flesh seeks salinity, some delta of eternity-lost, trackless as divinity.

💕🙌 #shortpoemsunday

I sing to use the Waiting Emily Dickinson I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I Till His best step approaching We journey to the Day And tell each other how We sang To Keep the Dark away.

Here’s Emily Dickinson singing so briefly too—only 8 lines—about our time.

Since the poem’s saying we sing, I sang it here: frankhudson.org/2024/09/24/i... #shortpoemsunday #poetry #music

Here's a brief contribution to #shortpoemsunday. A Bastard Ghazal entitled Say. Stop. Go.:

Poem II in one version of Mary Carolyn Davies’ “Songs of a Girl” You and I picked up Life and looked at it curiously; We did not know whether to keep it for a plaything or not. It was beautiful to see, like a red firecracker, And we knew, too, that it was lighted. We dropped it while the fuse was still burning...

Here’s a poem for #shortpoemsunday by Mary Carolyn Davies, a poet who was once considered alongside Mina Loy & William Carlos Williams. It’s from her sequence “Songs of a Girl.”

A bit more about her & a musical performance here: frankhudson.org/2021/05/26/s...

#shortpoemsunday
#micropoems

Text titled 'Wish You Were Here' that reads: In another time Your smile could burn down a house Where is that girl now?

Joining in for #shortpoemsunday

Is #shortpoemsunday really a thing? If so, here’s my contribution.

Shining mirror,
How when I stare into your eyes, your putrid form
Do I wish you were never born.

#poetry
#shortpoemsunday
#writersofbluesky