Advertisement · 728 × 90
#
Hashtag
#poemsAbout
Advertisement · 728 × 90
The Return of #PoemsAbout: Online Open Mic (Zoom) | Hosted by Alan Parry Tickets, Sunday, April 26  •  6 PM - 8 PM UTC | Eventbrite Eventbrite - Broken Spine Arts presents The Return of #PoemsAbout: Online Open Mic (Zoom) | Hosted by Alan Parry - Sunday, April 26, 2026 - Find event and ticket information.

This isn’t just another open mic. It’s something held together through hard times.
If you’ve ever needed a room, this is one.
#PoemsAbout #OpenMic #Return

2 1 0 0
Preview
Call for Submissions: Poetry That Reaches Beyond - The Broken Spine Submissions Open Throughout April 2026 | Publication Later That Year

Religion. Space. Time. Mortality.
If your poem engages with any of these — without flinching — send it.
#Firmament #Slimline #PoemsAbout #PoetsOfBluesky

9 4 1 0
A vast, dark blue space scene with a small astronaut floating alone in the distance near the curve of a massive planet. The scale emphasises isolation and insignificance. The Broken Spine logo appears in the top left, "@thebrokenspine.co.uk" in white at the top right, and bold white text at the bottom reads: "Read Repost Reply #POEMSABOUT #GRAVITY".

A vast, dark blue space scene with a small astronaut floating alone in the distance near the curve of a massive planet. The scale emphasises isolation and insignificance. The Broken Spine logo appears in the top left, "@thebrokenspine.co.uk" in white at the top right, and bold white text at the bottom reads: "Read Repost Reply #POEMSABOUT #GRAVITY".

What holds you in place? What pulls you under?
#PoemsAbout #Gravity — write the force you can’t escape.

6 2 0 0

#PoemsAbout still got me writing about the edges of things.
#EdgeOfKnowing

8 3 1 0
The Return of #PoemsAbout: Online Open Mic (Zoom) | Hosted by Alan Parry Most open mics are forgettable. This isn’t. #PoemsAbout returns. 5 mins. Zoom. £5 to read. 26 April, 19:00.

#PoemsAbout is coming back. Not quietly. Not safely.
Some of us need this more than we admit.
26 April. 19:00. Be there.
#PoemsAbout #OpenMic #Return

shorturl.at/SqGce

6 2 0 0
Preview
Call for Submissions: Poetry That Reaches Beyond - The Broken Spine Submissions Open Throughout April 2026 | Publication Later That Year

Write the poem that feels too large to hold.
Then control it.
#Firmament #Slimline #PoemsAbout #PoetsOfBluesky

10 5 0 0
Post image

#poemsabout #theedgeofknowing @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk

For this week I present a pantoum/haiku combo. I looked at the prompt and chose to write it from the perspective of a teenager, recalling the days where everyone thought they knew everything.

#poem #poetry #writing

15 2 3 0
Post image

I felt like I needed to write, well, something else this week for #PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#poetrycommunity #poetry #poem #poems #skypoets #blueskypoets #blueskypoetry #poetsofbluesky #skypoet #writingcommunity

55 7 5 0
possible titles
there is an edge for this
the body stops here
between signal and
this is where day forgets itself
if knowing had a shoreline
before the word becomes
at the border of heat
the pattern almost holds
one thing is still itself
and already becoming
something else

possible titles there is an edge for this the body stops here between signal and this is where day forgets itself if knowing had a shoreline before the word becomes at the border of heat the pattern almost holds one thing is still itself and already becoming something else

For this week's #PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing, I'm thinking about how an edge is where one thing is still itself
but already becoming something else.

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

#poetry #poem #writing #BlueSkyPoets

25 4 8 0

Coming out of infinite night,
squinting, brightness of light,
finally, the edge of knowing me,
finally, the place where soul is free,
apprehensive in faith,
apprehensive of my wraith,
she is always there, that woman,
waiting to reclaim her space, past woman

#poemsabout @thebrokenspine.co.uk #poetry

42 6 1 0
Old Care

This may be foward of me. They pump crap into your head. "Perfume is very stale polluted air" said the air filter app and it got to knowing fake from real.

Analyse metadata. Clear preloved accessories apartment has speaking apparatus somatic movement proved stamps have hidden secrets in their signing.

Breach the difference between nations. Be unsane. In Shakespeare's time mattresses were secured on bedframes by ropes. Easily genuinely can't tell anyone they're

Nasa just dropped that gives me purpose. Exit the fossil fuel. I caught the glitch bit.

Old Care This may be foward of me. They pump crap into your head. "Perfume is very stale polluted air" said the air filter app and it got to knowing fake from real. Analyse metadata. Clear preloved accessories apartment has speaking apparatus somatic movement proved stamps have hidden secrets in their signing. Breach the difference between nations. Be unsane. In Shakespeare's time mattresses were secured on bedframes by ropes. Easily genuinely can't tell anyone they're Nasa just dropped that gives me purpose. Exit the fossil fuel. I caught the glitch bit.

For #PoemsAbout #Edgeofknowing

12 3 1 0
A Palm Tree Grows in Santa Barbara
Because I cannot stand under it
and take it all in at once,
I put my palm on its stem—
palm, because its fronds are splayed,
supine, expectant—
stem, because it is only tree-like
and I need to steady my gaze
on its dizzying climb
in the brassy sunlight.
I tell it—
you are so tall—
tall, because its focus is ascension,
not girth or limbs—
focus, because it bends
to the grousing of shaggy clouds—
bends, because in a storm
it sweeps the floor-sky
like a witch’s broom—
sweeps, because it does not count the years
in rigid rings
but spirals—fan-leaved—
twisting in a gust
and flinging clusters
of its seeded drupes,
like a parable so perfect
it takes hold in any soil—
poor, shallow, shifting sands—
because its roots are a million
fibrous phrases,
tacking down its own beginning—
adventitious,
because these days
are so uncertain.
—
I tell it—
you are so tall,
and so beautiful—
so beautiful, because she says,
“That’s a good one.”
She,  like me,
has been tripping—
marveling eyes skyward,
lashes spiked and glittered—
under these strange, ubiquitous,
tree-like flowers—
marveling, because her name is Fantasia,
and this is the first time
she’s fallen so quickly in love—
fallen, because he’s with her now—
Gabriel—
we press our palms in greeting—
in love, because he tells her—
breathe—
you are no longer alone—
alone, because she’s been scattered—
Washington, Birmingham, St. Louis—
no longer, because together they are community activists —
Arlington, Palo Alto, Chesterbrook—
gathering signatures for good legislation—
gathering, because it starts somewhere—
good, because the focus is this—
she gestures,
her palms spreading
the infinite, invisible moment
we find between us.

A Palm Tree Grows in Santa Barbara Because I cannot stand under it and take it all in at once, I put my palm on its stem— palm, because its fronds are splayed, supine, expectant— stem, because it is only tree-like and I need to steady my gaze on its dizzying climb in the brassy sunlight. I tell it— you are so tall— tall, because its focus is ascension, not girth or limbs— focus, because it bends to the grousing of shaggy clouds— bends, because in a storm it sweeps the floor-sky like a witch’s broom— sweeps, because it does not count the years in rigid rings but spirals—fan-leaved— twisting in a gust and flinging clusters of its seeded drupes, like a parable so perfect it takes hold in any soil— poor, shallow, shifting sands— because its roots are a million fibrous phrases, tacking down its own beginning— adventitious, because these days are so uncertain. — I tell it— you are so tall, and so beautiful— so beautiful, because she says, “That’s a good one.” She, like me, has been tripping— marveling eyes skyward, lashes spiked and glittered— under these strange, ubiquitous, tree-like flowers— marveling, because her name is Fantasia, and this is the first time she’s fallen so quickly in love— fallen, because he’s with her now— Gabriel— we press our palms in greeting— in love, because he tells her— breathe— you are no longer alone— alone, because she’s been scattered— Washington, Birmingham, St. Louis— no longer, because together they are community activists — Arlington, Palo Alto, Chesterbrook— gathering signatures for good legislation— gathering, because it starts somewhere— good, because the focus is this— she gestures, her palms spreading the infinite, invisible moment we find between us.

Post image

I can’t help it. I need to repost this in the right order. Duh. Also HAD to tinker with the ending. #PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing

4 1 0 0
Post image

For #PoemsAbout #EdgeofReason @thebrokenspine.co.uk

Denial? Suppression of uncomfortable memories? Moi?

15 4 4 0
Post image

#PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing
@alanparrywriter.co.uk

@thebrokenspine.co.uk

16 2 1 0
Dark blue box with black shading and the words of a poem in white text:

                  edge of knowing

it is a beautiful 
thing,
this –
glowing red as
knuckles
petals the paper
of gods –
it is a perfect 
thing

I know
it is a flower
seen a thousand
times
no doubt –
but the name
of it
has sunk into
the river of Lethe


I try to fish
it up
I dive bravely
but the water is murky
clouded with a
million memories –
ungraspable 
and I resurface
empty

Dark blue box with black shading and the words of a poem in white text: edge of knowing it is a beautiful thing, this – glowing red as knuckles petals the paper of gods – it is a perfect thing I know it is a flower seen a thousand times no doubt – but the name of it has sunk into the river of Lethe I try to fish it up I dive bravely but the water is murky clouded with a million memories – ungraspable and I resurface empty

Happy to have been inspired by the #PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing prompt: Friday tends to be a good day, but now with adde poetry! Will read other offerings over the weekend. Thanks as always to @thebrokenspine.co.uk and @alanparrywriter.co.uk 🙏💜

21 3 2 0
Post image

Taking a breather. A poem for #PoemsAbout #edgeofknowing for @thebrokenspine.co.uk

26 5 7 0
Video

@alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk #poemsabout #edgeofknowing

Thanks as always to my inspiration and muse #pedropascal

@nathanbrazil.bsky.social

3 2 2 0
Post image

huge thanks to @thebrokenspine.co.uk for hosting #PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing

17 3 2 0
Post image

#PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#poetrycommunity #poetry #poem #poems #skypoets #blueskypoets #blueskypoetry #poetsofbluesky #skypoet #writingcommunity

20 1 6 1
Post image

#PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing Thank you as always to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk

36 5 6 0
A free verse poem about how, ini spite of life's overwhelm we can still hold to hope.

A free verse poem about how, ini spite of life's overwhelm we can still hold to hope.

For #PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing

With much thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk

21 3 5 0

.

𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚⁣

beyond the edge of knowing⁣
lies⁣

and AI⁣

.

#poem #poetry #micropoetry

#PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk

9 0 1 0
The Edge
a
mad king 
delusion
in full control 
confabulation 
making it up 
as he goes 
to the 
edge
the 
edge of 
insanity
brain cells are melting disintegrating 
narcissism 
in control 
he must 
go

The Edge a mad king delusion in full control confabulation making it up as he goes to the edge the edge of insanity brain cells are melting disintegrating narcissism in control he must go

#poemsabout #EdgeOfKnowing #RhopalicVerse

10 2 1 0
Edge of Knowing
the world on edge a precipice
I think I know which way we'll go I grasp the wheel
I pull hard left fighting forces out of control
tipping downward—
I am aghast how can it be that we are on this precipice whipped by winds gripping the wheel fighting forces beyond control pray now
which way we'll go

Edge of Knowing the world on edge a precipice I think I know which way we'll go I grasp the wheel I pull hard left fighting forces out of control tipping downward— I am aghast how can it be that we are on this precipice whipped by winds gripping the wheel fighting forces beyond control pray now which way we'll go

#poemsabout #EdgeOfKnowing

2 0 1 0
Poem:
Of Dreams

“We dream—it is good we are dreaming—
It would hurt us—were we awake—”
Emily Dickinson, “We dream—it is good we are dreaming”

In my dreams, I am multitudes,
in my dreams, I walk through walls,
and soar beyond

time, 
it runs backwards
(my dead are alive).

In my dreams,
I am every fish in every ocean,
my tails are tales
that dive and swim ashore
morph into more.

I am every bird
in every hue, feather-flighting 

migrating birds and one-way trippers--

in my dreams I soar, sink, think, I think
I know—

everything--

how do I know my dream did not change the world?
George Orr, and/or, Orwell, all is well--

America is singing, a dream deferred,

and I am just at the edge
of understanding—
then I wake.

Poem: Of Dreams “We dream—it is good we are dreaming— It would hurt us—were we awake—” Emily Dickinson, “We dream—it is good we are dreaming” In my dreams, I am multitudes, in my dreams, I walk through walls, and soar beyond time, it runs backwards (my dead are alive). In my dreams, I am every fish in every ocean, my tails are tales that dive and swim ashore morph into more. I am every bird in every hue, feather-flighting migrating birds and one-way trippers-- in my dreams I soar, sink, think, I think I know— everything-- how do I know my dream did not change the world? George Orr, and/or, Orwell, all is well-- America is singing, a dream deferred, and I am just at the edge of understanding— then I wake.

Good morning! So many prompts, so much poetry to read--a bounty of riches this month! Here's my poem for #PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing Thank you as always to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk I'll be back later to read.

21 6 9 0

Teetering on the
Precipice of knowledge, while
Practicing patience.
#PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing #haiku #senryu #poem #writing #writingcommunity
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk

25 1 2 0
A Palm Tree Grows in Santa Barbara
Because I cannot stand under it
and take it all in at once,
I put my palm on its stem—
palm, because its fronds are splayed,
supine, expectant—
stem, because it is only tree-like
and I need to steady my gaze
on its dizzying climb
in the brassy sunlight.
I tell it—
you are so tall—
tall, because its focus is ascension,
not girth or limbs—
focus, because it bends
to the grousing of shaggy clouds—
bends, because in a storm
it sweeps the floor-sky
like a witch’s broom—
sweeps, because it does not count the years
in rigid rings
but spirals—fan-leaved—
twisting in a gust
and flinging clusters
of its seeded drupes,
like a parable so perfect
it takes hold in any soil—
poor, shallow, shifting sands—
because its roots are a million
fibrous phrases,
tacking down its own beginning—
adventitious,
because these days
are so uncertain.
—
I tell it—
you are so tall,
and so beautiful—
so beautiful, because she says,
“That’s a good one.”
She,  like me,
has been tripping—
marveling eyes skyward,
lashes spiked and glittered—
under these strange, ubiquitous,
tree-like flowers—
marveling, because her name is Fantasia,
and this is the first time
she’s fallen so quickly in love—
fallen, because he’s with her now—
Gabriel—
we press our palms in greeting—
in love, because he tells her—
breathe—
you are no longer alone—
alone, because she’s been scattered—
Washington, Birmingham, St. Louis—
no longer, because together they are community activists —
Arlington, Palo Alto, Chesterbrook—
gathering signatures for good legislation—
gathering, because it starts somewhere—
good, because the focus is this—
she gestures,
her palms spreading
the infinite, invisible moment
between us.

A Palm Tree Grows in Santa Barbara Because I cannot stand under it and take it all in at once, I put my palm on its stem— palm, because its fronds are splayed, supine, expectant— stem, because it is only tree-like and I need to steady my gaze on its dizzying climb in the brassy sunlight. I tell it— you are so tall— tall, because its focus is ascension, not girth or limbs— focus, because it bends to the grousing of shaggy clouds— bends, because in a storm it sweeps the floor-sky like a witch’s broom— sweeps, because it does not count the years in rigid rings but spirals—fan-leaved— twisting in a gust and flinging clusters of its seeded drupes, like a parable so perfect it takes hold in any soil— poor, shallow, shifting sands— because its roots are a million fibrous phrases, tacking down its own beginning— adventitious, because these days are so uncertain. — I tell it— you are so tall, and so beautiful— so beautiful, because she says, “That’s a good one.” She, like me, has been tripping— marveling eyes skyward, lashes spiked and glittered— under these strange, ubiquitous, tree-like flowers— marveling, because her name is Fantasia, and this is the first time she’s fallen so quickly in love— fallen, because he’s with her now— Gabriel— we press our palms in greeting— in love, because he tells her— breathe— you are no longer alone— alone, because she’s been scattered— Washington, Birmingham, St. Louis— no longer, because together they are community activists — Arlington, Palo Alto, Chesterbrook— gathering signatures for good legislation— gathering, because it starts somewhere— good, because the focus is this— she gestures, her palms spreading the infinite, invisible moment between us.

Post image

#PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing

5 1 2 0

#PoemsAbout

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

#EdgeOfKnowing

bud on a stark tree, late
hellebore, wisteria - grey - leafless ,

all on an inbreath - not knowing

- as yet -

what might soon be flowering

what might be in-forming
its pattern of days

its pattern of dreams

15 1 3 0
visited

inside this room
the air hangs
like heavy strips of fabric
and i pace around it
unsettled

the knock at the door
was inevitable
was jarring

i make a cup of tea
i stare
at the hardy
wooden rectangle
i snack
on my fingernails

another knock at the door
then another
louder

i will answer it
and i will see who is there

visited inside this room the air hangs like heavy strips of fabric and i pace around it unsettled the knock at the door was inevitable was jarring i make a cup of tea i stare at the hardy wooden rectangle i snack on my fingernails another knock at the door then another louder i will answer it and i will see who is there

🤷‍♂️
#PoemsAbout #EdgeOfKnowing
@thebrokenspine.co.uk

15 2 3 0

Angels in the Afterburn

I turned a picture from Artemis 
into my desktop wallpaper at work,

chills every time the screen opens
throat closing around the image

all ocean, clouds, sparks light, most of all
ours. The sheen of atmosphere

the halo of our air, takes breath out of me.
Where does belonging emerge

in a beauty so vast?
Where does one of us end

and the other begins?
I let it slideshow into another

a diagram of Laniakea spreading 
spiderweb tendrils across the void

with a little dot for the Milky Way
and an arrow crying, “You are Here!”

And then another, a sliver of moon, 
then the half shadow of our home.

I let it settle on an angel in the afterburn
gliding into frame. I ask her to preserve us 

and she replies…

Angels in the Afterburn I turned a picture from Artemis into my desktop wallpaper at work, chills every time the screen opens throat closing around the image all ocean, clouds, sparks light, most of all ours. The sheen of atmosphere the halo of our air, takes breath out of me. Where does belonging emerge in a beauty so vast? Where does one of us end and the other begins? I let it slideshow into another a diagram of Laniakea spreading spiderweb tendrils across the void with a little dot for the Milky Way and an arrow crying, “You are Here!” And then another, a sliver of moon, then the half shadow of our home. I let it settle on an angel in the afterburn gliding into frame. I ask her to preserve us and she replies…

Best wishes. Will respond to other folks work as it slows down at work. Enjoy. 🤗

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

#poemsabout #edgeofknowing #6amwritersclub #poem #poetry #poemaday #skypoem #skypoetry

39 9 6 0