Enjoy the fun and very explicit memoir, "Showing Off For Appreciative Neighbor" at prowank.com/showing-off-... ( #showingOff, #exhibitionist, #exhibitionism, #wanking, #jerkingOff, #beingWatched, #masturbating, #publicMasturbation, #soloSex)
seen crossing waiting for the 267, bussed by pallid sun i idly watch as cars that lord the tarmac’d space betwixt our modest homes and short parade of shops thrust past, in fear some soft and time-rich driver stops to bid one of us locals cross with spring-heeled pace asserting our bold right to transport inside our own carapace one car, i note, has paused for one of us—at first obscured by its high rear—while more cars brake, a brittle twig bent slant and dark, cracked from an aged apple tree emerges slow, each zebra’s stripe the apogee —or so it seems—of this small lady’s hobbled jig her tiny shopping cart behind: a humble, fragile rig her hundred metres course from home to mini superstore perhaps she once would bolt to grab with speedy verve a malted loaf or box of eggs to fix a snack for some fresh guest, or treat—to top the book-filled pack of a gone child. Today she spends her last reserve on striving for the central island: weak of limb yet strong of nerve long seconds tick; folk wait; while this side of her treasured isle fraught drivers judge her pace too slow to make them break their stride so hustle past. The plucky twig creeps nigh the halfway ground amid the maelstrom—whereupon two tradesmen, pick-up bound for their next job (though they have room to safely pass this side) slow down their day, stop time, and smile their fellow passerby across: all eyed by me as she and he and he, mute strangers all, reflect upon our mortal ride. Paul Rapley 2026 #beingwatched
Sorry this has taken so long (in line with the theme, I guess) #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched
Thank you @alanparrywriter.co.uk & @thebrokenspine.co.uk
#poets #poetrycommunity #poetry #poems #blueskypoets #blueskypoetry #blueskypoets #poetsofbluesky
Nocturne 93 By Dawn Mclachlan Wrapped in blue night And silver banded light On unfamiliar sheets I watch this new presence Past the flowers And the plastic And the whispers of nurses There is the first sleep And suddenly it drowns me With fathomless depth Of all the hopes and fears Of uncharted oceans In the warm silence There is no pain And all noise has ceased Because the world is brand new And full of such dazzling possibilities
For #poemsabout #beingwatched prompt from @thebrokenspine.co.uk
This is taken from my forthcoming poetry book - June Somewhere - which will be published on May 1st. A Beltane book.
#poetrycommunity #poetrybooks #poetsofbluesky
Arrows You watch me undress even though you can’t really see me because my body is a ruin and I have vanished under the rubble. I am writhing under your eyes which might as well be crosshairs, palpitating in this animal carcass that takes up too much space. Bits and pieces of me scatter everywhere like dead skin cells or eyelashes, tiny insignificant things you can wish on but that never come true. This is how I mark my territory, in chewed off fingernails and stray hair bands, careless words and stuttered apologies, sacred beads of spit and blood. This is where I have come to love and to haunt. This is where I will raise a little church. But you can’t really see me now because I’ve gone inside to pray. I am building nests on branches that can’t hold me. And my spine curves like the bent neck of a deer bowing before the hunter’s gun. Like it is trying to tell you something secret. Like it wants to bridge an enormous gap. You only come to watch me unravel so you can hide in the cracks. I am but a bird in the palm of your hand. Just one little twist of your fingers to break its brittle bones. You will only really see me once you dare to lift off the burial shroud and find out that the crumpled cerecloth once upon a time was a wing.
Late but here is my submission for #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched ✨
for @thebrokenspine.co.uk
& @alanparrywriter.co.uk
Outsider looking in, the observer on the wall one-way glass to what passes for humanity watching the love, hate, recreation, violence while your soul simmers in silence. It hurts to see the harm they do themselves, sipping poison while tearing off warning labels. You watch an apocalypse rise in slow motion apathy lauded as virtue and you, the outsider looking in driven mad by the lethargy of spirit, can only sit on the wall your inner child dismantling it brick by brick, sick of society's cyanide sweetness, to look on, and smile through the pain.
A belated submission for #poemsabout this week, I think it also serves well as one of the gift poems for when I reached 4500k followers. Enjoy.
@jenthorne.bsky.social
@madp03t.bsky.social
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#beingwatched #madmarch #smile #poem #poetry #poemaday #skypoem #skypoetry
Muntjac A dog escaped from its yard, straying from the bounded woods, you drop like a ripened fruit – slip from your disguise of fog to reveal the awkward wedge of you, disrobed and alert. The sprung trap of your leaping; desperate kick at the wire wall that separates our worlds. You are willing me to freeze, be you, and instinctively, my muscles seize with your fear.
Really like this, Rachel. Put me in mind of my poem 'Muntjac', which recalls a similar encounter. #poemsabout #beingwatched
I look over to my partner and tap him on the nose—twice. That means we're being watched, or is it "I smell danger." I know what danger looks like... most of the time. But what does danger smell like exactly? A burned figgy pudding? The deceptively sweet and frankly toxic flesh of a yewberry? Spilled petrol? Petrol is certainly dangerous, spilled or otherwise. Yes, that explains it. It's the two suspicious men hiding in the yewberry bush across the lane. It has to be! Two taps means twice the danger. And I only brought one pudding.
The old woman at the local launderette volunteered to watch my clothes. She offered to read my future during the spin cycle—like a medium reading tea leaves. She accepted donations to fund research for chronic vertigo.
#poemsabout #beingwatched #crimefiction #fiction #crime #crimetories #writing
if i tell you this story, you mustn't tell anyone else i used to think watching out meant keeping something safe. but mostly it means consequence. habits— margin notes. adaptation checking itself. what survives between me and you becomes the record.
For this week's #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched, I'm thinking about www.earthcamtv.com.
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
Black box with a poem in white writing: watched get your fucking eyes off me – or I’ll tear them out
This week's #PoemsAbout prompt, #BeingWatched, was pretty triggering for me - think it shows in my response.
Happy Friday poets! 💜
@thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk
Your presence I could feel it from miles away... Peering, peeking, sneaking, but kept at bay By my wards, Go away. Soothe away my pain, Soothe the unease Until the basket closes off. Oh, basket, basket eyes. Inside this prison you trapped me in. It's you, it's you, sins by you— Awaken my anger. Through you my bad blood bubbled through me, A shrine of evil men's stains. Remember when we Were playing in the park Just the two of us No watchful eyes... Judging us Kagome, Kagome. Kago no naka no..... Kagome, Kagome— Put on the garb and take out the axe It's you, it's you, grim reaper Go and rip me to shreds. Through you I'm ruined and I am changed, How will I proclaim that you ripped me to shreds? "悪事身にとまる" (All evil done clings to the body) Ahh, why it's you, why did it have to be you Your grinding stone is grinning at me... Grinding away pieces of me until I've nothing left.. Chipping away with nothing left Is to draw water from an empty well... And my pieces of cloth are on the ground, Goodbye
My entry for #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched
かごめかごめ
Kagome Kagome
Caged bird, caged bird
....or are you the basket (Kago) with a lot of eyes (me) watching me obsessively from afar?
No. 5 in my Japanese lullaby series.
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
#poetry
A poem using short phrases to describe the tension, the fear, of being watched, being followed.
For #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched
with thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk
Plantation Hill Seeing myself beneath, or between, the hugely ridged and rolling tyres down the tarmac muddy track. The light therefore on what were pines and blue and bleeding spruces: plucked and piled and no serious matter as I blithely, anyway, passed in my mossy, lucky car. Then the spill, that pick-up-stick sprawl further down the row, an incredible thuddery rollery sliding down the grating hill in the noon and gentle sun, muted Verdi on my radio. And to my mind, as I recall, in my rear-view out they white and un-helmeted crawled.
Haven't posted anything for a while as life has been a bit hectic, but here's one for a (thankfully) quiet Friday
#PoemsAbout #BeingWatched
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
This from this week's #PromptCombo also (sort of) fits with #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
Being Watched I can feel eyes undress me—wolfishly devouring me. Unwanted, greedy longing, plain to see. I glare. I see you. I see your ignorance— Thinking me weak. I watch your gaze shift, shattered by my defiance. You are watched.
Happy Friday #PoemsAbout friends. For this week’s #beingwatched I found myself thinking about those empty circles.
@alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk #poetrycommunity #poetry #poems #blueskypoets #blueskypoetry
I don't use my last name online changed my phone number (Mom better not give it out) moved twice and used PO Boxes for mail deleted Facebook (18 years of memories gone) created new accounts with unfamiliar usernames yet he still manages to find me just so he can tell me that he hates me so he can yell out insults that stab my heart and give me chills because he knows where I am now every cell in my body trembles (it's hard to type) I've cried so much because of him there are no tears left for this my mind starts racing making plans for another change and I sigh with exhaustion he will never leave me alone but I have to try
We broke up ten years ago. He never took 'no' for an answer.
#PoemsAbout #BeingWatched #poetry #writing #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity
"Vile Villanelle" (from "Contact Light" (2025, Alien Buddha Press)
#poem #poetry #skypoets #blueskypoets #poetsofbluesky #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #horrorpoem #horrorpoetry #contactlight #alienbuddhapress #poemsabout #beingwatched
@alienbuddhapress.bsky.social
@markknight63.bsky.social
Poem: We Watch and Whisper How can a look be felt as a touch-- spine-tingled, hair-raised, a vestige of prehistory, predator and prey. Now eyes-in-the-sky and Big Brother all around, our private lives scanned and screened, everyone watches as the predators swagger, free.
Good morning, Poets! This #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched was another difficult challenge for me. Thank you as always to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched This really happened. Heartbreaking. Published 1st in Zoo (Dreich 2021)
Orangutan: Newquay Zoo
You winked
maybe
through smeared pane
your leather palm
pushed to mine
loss in your eyes
maybe
a holy palmer’s kiss
a tragedy.
Sarah O' Grady
Two hundred thousand,
passing in the streets.
Faces drift by
as tears slip past my cheek.
Everyone there,
yet no one sees.
#poemsabout #beingwatched #prompt #poetry #poetryprompt #writing #writingprompt #skywriters #poet
There is no escaping his gaze Not in the locked lavatory Nor the space under the stairs No hiding behind mother’s skirts Or amongst a crowd of pals Each of them is as exposed as you are He sees you when you’re sleeping His dispassionate, calculating eye Regarding your unconscious form He knows when you’re awake No point in pretending Behind deliberate slow breathing And tightly shut eyes Your body is held still and silent in vain He knows if you’ve been bad or good Probing your very thoughts Reading every guilty twitch on your face Or using some supernatural ability To see into your mind Your heart Your soul There’s no avoiding him You are an open book He’s writing a list He’s checking it Twice You must learn his moral code Anticipate the flavour of his judgement And be good for goodness sake
Another vintage week on #PoemsAbout with #BeingWatched provoking a wealth of quality responses. Just scrolling them is like reading a great little anthology.
Here's my contribution...
the man in the mac the man in the mac is close enough behind us as we weave through the slick streets of edinburgh's new town that we could hear him if he called our names don't look back says my dad gripping my hand dragging me towards waverley station i look back i see the man's thick black glasses his angled grey fedora and i feel embarrassed for all of us i told him says my dad that he didn't need to see us off but he isn't cross that his father followed us in secret
Sometimes you're not just being paranoid #BeingWatched
@thebrokenspine.co.uk #PoemsAbout
Good morning and many thanks @thebrokenspine.co.uk and @alanparrywriter.co.uk for your intriguing #PoemsAbout prompt #BeingWatched. This isn't new but I hope it fits the bill. Looking forward to reading everyone else's contributions #PoetryCommunity #BlueSkyPoets
Vigil I sit watching you are calm hearing ice-laden rain lashing a world beyond I don’t dare move even breathing feels brave don’t dare believe you are here
It's still early and so many excellent poems for #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched already! Here's a contribution from me; for a lover, a child, a parent? Thanks @thebrokenspine.co.uk for the prompt! #poems #poetry #writingcommunity
Crackling on the
Phone line, footsteps following,
The eyes you can't see.
#PoemsAbout #BeingWatched #haiku #senryu #poem #writing #writingcommunity
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
ICON SELF Oh, pray for me now And at the hour of our departure. Who’s taking who? I wonder, From my sacred image Let no man put asunder. You are my helpmate, You tell me, You spell me, You are me. The Screen is everything. Like a mother’s face from a pram. You will straighten out The tagliatelle in my brain, Be my weather world, My sunshine and my rain. So, click, bait the hook Take me to dream land, Through the lightless mirror Where there is no pain. © Bernard Pearson
my thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk for hosting #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched will enjoy reading everyone else's stuff as it comes in
Morning ~ all ~ one from way back ~ Jim
@thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk and to #beingwatched #poemsabout
