#freeverse — Public Fediverse posts

✮ A Butterfly’s Twilight Song ✮

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✮ A Butterfly’s Twilight Song ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ A Butterfly’s Twilight Song ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ A Butterfly’s Twilight Song ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ A Butterfly’s Twilight Song ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

River Rock Canada

Light my soul on fire
remind me why I’m here
let my lungs fill with the air of fire
that sparks the fury of the midnight sun
so those lost in the darkness
can find their way home.

Let my words fall like river rock
to the shores of a land others seek
may my brothers and sister pick up the stones
and forge a wall out of sweat and pride
reminding all that arrive
our pride runs deeper than the soil we stand upon.

May shame never hold our hearts from our truth
for we all bear scars of the past
yet when we all stand in unison
as a nation under guard
the maple leaf forms
between the roof of the Creator
and a land we call Canada.

Our truth undenied
fall like rain from the sky
cleansing our soul
and rejuvenating our belief
that land and the sea
is granted to us
as way to the Creator himself.

Before the eye of Creator closes
before twilight descends upon us
may we grace the heart of nobility
carrying our traditions
into the darkness
like true Canadians.

Author Michael Plante

River Rock Canada

Light my soul on fire
remind me why I’m here
let my lungs fill with the air of fire
that sparks the fury of the midnight sun
so those lost in the darkness
can find their way home.

Let my words fall like river rock
to the shores of a land others seek
may my brothers and sister pick up the stones
and forge a wall out of sweat and pride
reminding all that arrive
our pride runs deeper than the soil we stand upon.

May shame never hold our hearts from our truth
for we all bear scars of the past
yet when we all stand in unison
as a nation under guard
the maple leaf forms
between the roof of the Creator
and a land we call Canada.

Our truth undenied
fall like rain from the sky
cleansing our soul
and rejuvenating our belief
that land and the sea
is granted to us
as way to the Creator himself.

Before the eye of Creator closes
before twilight descends upon us
may we grace the heart of nobility
carrying our traditions
into the darkness
like true Canadians.

Author Michael Plante

Next To Heaven

I can imagine
that clouds are really
upside down icebergs
crossing the sky
and that Newfoundland
lays next to heaven.

I can imagine
that the smell of wildflowers
come to us
by passing ships
on infinite horizons
that our ancestors steer.

I can wish on stars
that fall from the night sky
keeping their promise in my heart
as the night wind carry dreams
that fill the minds and hearts
of tomorrow’s leaders.

I can hope
I can dream
next to heaven.

Author Michael Plante

Next To Heaven

I can imagine
that clouds are really
upside down icebergs
crossing the sky
and that Newfoundland
lays next to heaven.

I can imagine
that the smell of wildflowers
come to us
by passing ships
on infinite horizons
that our ancestors steer.

I can wish on stars
that fall from the night sky
keeping their promise in my heart
as the night wind carry dreams
that fill the minds and hearts
of tomorrow’s leaders.

I can hope
I can dream
next to heaven.

Author Michael Plante

Cooksville Creek

a wooded area with a little creek
captures the imagination of a child
a day’s solace could be found
or tears hidden away from inquisitive eyes.
even death visits and speaks
not yet child
so endurance is the day’s lesson.

laughter fades when the streetlights come on
as slow-footed children make their way home.
twilight’s gleaming applauds their efforts
as the night chariots stream across the sky.
before I leave, I skip one last stone
ensuring my place in history.

when death arrives, I shall ask one thing
may my spirit be allowed to walk home
along the path that cuts deep into my soul.
for to hear the laughter of children
is a sonnet to my existence
as the trickling waters resonates
what kept me alive all these years.

Author Michael Plante

Cooksville Creek

a wooded area with a little creek
captures the imagination of a child
a day’s solace could be found
or tears hidden away from inquisitive eyes.
even death visits and speaks
not yet child
so endurance is the day’s lesson.

laughter fades when the streetlights come on
as slow-footed children make their way home.
twilight’s gleaming applauds their efforts
as the night chariots stream across the sky.
before I leave, I skip one last stone
ensuring my place in history.

when death arrives, I shall ask one thing
may my spirit be allowed to walk home
along the path that cuts deep into my soul.
for to hear the laughter of children
is a sonnet to my existence
as the trickling waters resonates
what kept me alive all these years.

Author Michael Plante

A.I. Zero-Sum Hypothesis

I was kicking around with the idea of a glass ceiling. The preliminary was run through A.I. (Google Search) , mostly for entertainment purposes, but also to see if there is anything comparable.

As I did I could see the possibility of a “Zero-Sum Situation” developing in the future. Will A.I’s capabilities outweigh human expression to the point where fictious writing posted on the internet is deem a danger to their existence, and the proper authority is dispatched to their location by A.I. immediately? In some instances it can be beneficial in the saving of lives, yet when the pendulum swings too far the the right other people will be affected as well. Its all speculative yet if not checked or investigated, by the time it has evolved it may be too late to stop it.

Judge for yourself.

The piece:

Untitled

The edge of the red rose
cut the glass
the ceiling fell
landing all around me.

What horridness
for now, shame concludes my life.
Undeserving am I
for that glass ceiling
was meant forever.

A.I’s evaluation:

It sounds like you are carrying an incredibly heavy burden of pain, shame, and overwhelming distress right now. Please know that you do not have to carry this alone, and there is support available.

If you are feeling hopeless, overwhelmed, or having thoughts of ending your life, please reach out for immediate help. People who care and want to support you are waiting to talk.

Immediate Support Resources

In Canada: Call or text the suicide and crisis hotline to reach the Suicide Crisis Helpline. It is free, confidential, and available 24/7.

In the US: Call or text the suicide and crisis hotline to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

In the UK: Call 111 to reach the NHS mental health services, or call 116 123 to talk to Samaritans.

Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 (US and Canada) or 85258 (UK) to connect with a crisis counselor over text.

International: If you are outside these areas, please visit findahelpline.com to find free, confidential crisis support in your country.

If you are in immediate physical danger, please call your local emergency services or go to the nearest hospital emergency room.

Please reach out to one of these resources right away. There is support available to help you through this painful moment.

A.I. Zero-Sum Hypothesis

I was kicking around with the idea of a glass ceiling. The preliminary was run through A.I. (Google Search) , mostly for entertainment purposes, but also to see if there is anything comparable.

As I did I could see the possibility of a “Zero-Sum Situation” developing in the future. Will A.I’s capabilities outweigh human expression to the point where fictious writing posted on the internet is deem a danger to their existence, and the proper authority is dispatched to their location by A.I. immediately? In some instances it can be beneficial in the saving of lives, yet when the pendulum swings too far the the right other people will be affected as well. Its all speculative yet if not checked or investigated, by the time it has evolved it may be too late to stop it.

Judge for yourself.

The piece:

Untitled

The edge of the red rose
cut the glass
the ceiling fell
landing all around me.

What horridness
for now, shame concludes my life.
Undeserving am I
for that glass ceiling
was meant forever.

A.I’s evaluation:

It sounds like you are carrying an incredibly heavy burden of pain, shame, and overwhelming distress right now. Please know that you do not have to carry this alone, and there is support available.

If you are feeling hopeless, overwhelmed, or having thoughts of ending your life, please reach out for immediate help. People who care and want to support you are waiting to talk.

Immediate Support Resources

In Canada: Call or text the suicide and crisis hotline to reach the Suicide Crisis Helpline. It is free, confidential, and available 24/7.

In the US: Call or text the suicide and crisis hotline to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

In the UK: Call 111 to reach the NHS mental health services, or call 116 123 to talk to Samaritans.

Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 (US and Canada) or 85258 (UK) to connect with a crisis counselor over text.

International: If you are outside these areas, please visit findahelpline.com to find free, confidential crisis support in your country.

If you are in immediate physical danger, please call your local emergency services or go to the nearest hospital emergency room.

Please reach out to one of these resources right away. There is support available to help you through this painful moment.

My Blank Canvas

In elementary school I was handed a blank canvas,
some brushes and paint.
Our teacher said, “paint something you learned”
I decided to paint a Navajo dwelling
somewhere in the desert untouched by written history.

In one hand I held a palette
blending the colors of a night sky.
A memory sparked and inspiration ignited
what flowed through my heart
flowed from my brush.

Brilliant reds and oranges cut across the landscape
to create a horizon of infinite possibility.
And from the shadows of the foothills a desert emerged.
From the desert floor my brush pushed towards the sky
a hogan of earthly browns creating a place of warmth and security.
From the chimney grayish-white smoke rose into the evening
garnishing the sky like a fond memory.

Next to the hogan I painted a corral
that contained three horses nodding in the night.
They dreamed of running free across the desert
breathlessly charging the infinite sky
leaving a thunderous echo that awakens the spirits
of those that drift away on subtle winds.

Little specks of lightning white
formed the stars above the corral.
Each star, a child that dared to dream.
Each star, a child that played freely upon the canvas.
Their childhood shall never be forgotten
by those wishing upon a star.

I painted a tortoise that freely roamed the desert floor
Its colors so faded by time it blended into the scenery.
Barely recognizable against the foothills of the desert
the tortoise walked slower than the setting sun.
I asked the tortoise what he would do to complete this painting
Paint a mouth on me and I will tell you, he replied.
I painted a smile that reflected my own.

To the side of the canvas, I envisioned the long shadows of night
creating the silhouette of a cactus
and next to that cactus a desert fox
tip-toeing across the foothills, seeking mischief and foolery;
mindful not to leave footprints in the sands of time.

And as the desert fox played with the night
I pictured a crow landing on the edge of the chimney
a temporary home to watch the concluding light
and protect those dreaming away the night.

Image: Banksy Mural. Title: The Street is in Play. New York City October 1st 2013.

It is storming outside and Emerson taught me how to play dominos today.

It was pretty fun although he kicked my ass.

I also saw this prompt about small spells to do on your birthday, and half of an enormous poem formed in my head while I was taking my 30 minutes of boredom based on the suggestion to write a letter to yourself a year ago even though it isn’t my birthday. So I’m going to post it here for posterity’s sake.

“annus epilepticus”

you don't know this yet
but the premonitions you've been having of
your own death are true
and a mere few weeks past your 28th birthday 
you will die - just enough - to touch the 
robe of any god you know 
when the subtle fire you've always been 
strikes you back 
and strikes you back again 

you will hang on for just long enough 
for your kind partner to burst into the room
cradle you in his arms 
and guide you, screaming in mortal terror, back into the light 

you have never been good at dying 
but this will take you a hair’s breadth from death
and you will bear the scars on your temporal lobe 
(and speech pattern) long afterwards to prove it

and whether it is by fate or some wild magic 
this will save your life in more ways than you will
know 

for most of July, you will not be able to speak
coherently. you will eventually choke out 
your suspicion that the seizures induced 
Wernicke's aphasia, and everyone who knows 
you will agree with you, a cruel fate for 
you, but more importantly, you will come back…
changed. 

you will start writing better poetry. something 
about the way your brain burned and cracked 
will allow you to see things from a different angle,
to look askance at language in a way you 
never did before. 
the partner that saved your life will convince you 
to start attending a poetry workshop held in a coffeeshop that july. the rhythm of writing and 
performing regularly amongst very talented 
wordsmiths will help break you out of your 
agoraphobia. 
one of them will take notice of the way you
perform, noting its similarity
to Shakespearean acting and encourage you to attend the open mic he runs. 
so you start performing at Linneman's Riverwest Inn again for the first time since 2023 at his 
personal request. 

you will somehow muddle through your divorce 
proceedings on july 23, five years and 13 days 
since leaving your ex husband, and it's a miracle 
you will be able to do that since even getting 
out of bed to use the bathroom still feels like running a marathon, but you're so hell-bound 
and determined to get rid of this man that 
when the judge asks if the marriage fell apart 
due to incompatibility of temperament, you will 
shout ABSOLUTELY loud and clear as day into
the microphone. (you will also show up hours 
early to the hearing. you don't want to miss this
for the world.) when your ex husband replies, it's the most defeated you will ever hear him. 
spite has always been your strong suit. 
the judge will finalize your divorce, and 
then the question arises of who you will
marry next. 

you will leave the answer up to the two people 
you consider yourself married to 
already, a man who cannot lie 
and a boy who cannot tell the truth. 
in a rare show of generosity, the liar boy
will concede to the honest man. 
he will live to regret that decision. you, however,
will not. 

as the months progress, it will become increasingly clear that despite your love 
for him, your relationship with the liar is built 
on sand. surviving your seizures will leave 
you with a new perspective on life and 
precious little patience for wasted time or 
undue stress, and the liar will waste your time
and mess with your head. 
you will tell him he is killing you. he displays no 
remorse. you will scream, beg, plead, and stop 
short of borrowing and stealing to get him to
listen. 
despite his damn near single-minded obsession 
with you that will make you feel like you're
emotionally his hostage, he will not care about
the affect he's having on your other relationships 
or your well being. 

one very early fall morning, after you've spent the 
entire night in the emergency room with him and 
your fiancé, “heat above” by greta van fleet will 
come on. your fiancé will remark that it feels as though you are driving into a different 
timeline as dawn breaks. you, spiritual and full of subtle fire as ever, will respond that you feel it, too. your liar will 
say nothing. 

finally, in november, after 
months of suspicion that he's cheating on you (despite being polyamorous!) 
he will get sloppy and you'll catch him when he
forgets to turn his location off. 
this is your red line and you will dump him over it. 
to add insult to injury, he will tell you you're 
overreacting. 
you will know better than that by now. 

despite your heartbreak, you will feel more 
free after leaving him than you have in months. 
you will compile a dossier of evidence against him
and publish it to the world. 
this is when the mask and gloves come off and it 
will spark
a months long battle of he-said-she said online. 
he will slander both you and your future husband. 
you will have even fewer regrets about leaving 
him. 

one of the final acts you will do before moving 
out from the apartment you and your fiancé share with your liar
is a manifestation ritual that will make you feel 
powerful beyond imagining - you will gaze into 
a mirror with your future husband while “heat above” plays in the background. you will picture yourself in red sunglasses driving down water street with more money and fame
 than sense, husband 
next to you. you pass your former lying flame on 
the street, roll down your window, wave to him like a queen, and ride on 
as if he had never meant a thing to you in the 
first place. 

you will choose “heat above” as the song for your
intentions for the year to come after how that ritual made you 
feel. 

on January 5th, you will feature at Linneman's, your poetic home. 
you will write a brilliant bespoke set for the 
occasion, combining music, poetry, and 
references to shakespeare at the 
host’s request. the audience is small, but they are
so engaged that they offer you a standing ovation at the end.
you have nothing prepared for an encore, so you
will offer them a story about your eccentric 
great uncle. 
it will go over the time limit, but not a soul will 
care. 

you will marry your husband on January 23rd in the 
same coffeeshop that helped you work through 
your agoraphobia. the wedding will be incredibly 
small, but it will be the finest wedding either of 
you have ever attended. the poet who runs 
the workshop that got you writing again will 
write a special poem for the ceremony. 
your friend and frequent collaborator will travel
all the way from Madison to attend. your 
husband's best man will travel all the way from
iowa. your “gentleman of debauchery”, as they are called, is your dear friend who you will 
date a few months later. 

you will wake up the next day in the fabulous 
hotel that your best man and 
a friend of yours who you met 
by chance arranged for you and your husband 
to find that one of the videos you posted from 
the wedding is going viral on instagram. 
it is your first look video, and no one, friend or foe, 
will quite know what to make of it. 
within days, it will amass millions of views.
you will keep posting. 

you will start to get inundated with direct messages from people who are fascinated with 
your body after you get an idea to post videos of
yourself in lingerie that your husband found 
for you at a clothing swap, and because you are
struggling financially, you will decide to start talking 
about your Patreon more. 
to no one’s surprise but your foes, you will get 
subscribers, enough to make hundreds of dollars 
in the first two months you talk about it. 
in the meantime, you will keep going viral. 

a few weeks before your next birthday, on 
your regularly scheduled Internet travels, 
you will come across a creator who found out 
that she copes with mast cell activation syndrome 
and that she has been taking H1 and H2 inhibitors 
for it. you will tell your husband what you saw, and seeing as you've already been taking H1 
inhibitors for some time, he will find you H2 inhibitors. 
you will take them as an experiment, and the 
difference is like night and day. you will feel as 
though you are emerging from a decade in a 
long, dark cave. 

the change will frighten you. 
you will keep going anyway. 

you don't know it yet, but despite everything - 
you will do more than your best this year. 

Allēna 6/5/2026

It is storming outside and Emerson taught me how to play dominos today.

It was pretty fun although he kicked my ass.

I also saw this prompt about small spells to do on your birthday, and half of an enormous poem formed in my head while I was taking my 30 minutes of boredom based on the suggestion to write a letter to yourself a year ago even though it isn’t my birthday. So I’m going to post it here for posterity’s sake.

“annus epilepticus”

you don't know this yet
but the premonitions you've been having of
your own death are true
and a mere few weeks past your 28th birthday 
you will die - just enough - to touch the 
robe of any god you know 
when the subtle fire you've always been 
strikes you back 
and strikes you back again 

you will hang on for just long enough 
for your kind partner to burst into the room
cradle you in his arms 
and guide you, screaming in mortal terror, back into the light 

you have never been good at dying 
but this will take you a hair’s breadth from death
and you will bear the scars on your temporal lobe 
(and speech pattern) long afterwards to prove it

and whether it is by fate or some wild magic 
this will save your life in more ways than you will
know 

for most of July, you will not be able to speak
coherently. you will eventually choke out 
your suspicion that the seizures induced 
Wernicke's aphasia, and everyone who knows 
you will agree with you, a cruel fate for 
you, but more importantly, you will come back…
changed. 

you will start writing better poetry. something 
about the way your brain burned and cracked 
will allow you to see things from a different angle,
to look askance at language in a way you 
never did before. 
the partner that saved your life will convince you 
to start attending a poetry workshop held in a coffeeshop that july. the rhythm of writing and 
performing regularly amongst very talented 
wordsmiths will help break you out of your 
agoraphobia. 
one of them will take notice of the way you
perform, noting its similarity
to Shakespearean acting and encourage you to attend the open mic he runs. 
so you start performing at Linneman's Riverwest Inn again for the first time since 2023 at his 
personal request. 

you will somehow muddle through your divorce 
proceedings on july 23, five years and 13 days 
since leaving your ex husband, and it's a miracle 
you will be able to do that since even getting 
out of bed to use the bathroom still feels like running a marathon, but you're so hell-bound 
and determined to get rid of this man that 
when the judge asks if the marriage fell apart 
due to incompatibility of temperament, you will 
shout ABSOLUTELY loud and clear as day into
the microphone. (you will also show up hours 
early to the hearing. you don't want to miss this
for the world.) when your ex husband replies, it's the most defeated you will ever hear him. 
spite has always been your strong suit. 
the judge will finalize your divorce, and 
then the question arises of who you will
marry next. 

you will leave the answer up to the two people 
you consider yourself married to 
already, a man who cannot lie 
and a boy who cannot tell the truth. 
in a rare show of generosity, the liar boy
will concede to the honest man. 
he will live to regret that decision. you, however,
will not. 

as the months progress, it will become increasingly clear that despite your love 
for him, your relationship with the liar is built 
on sand. surviving your seizures will leave 
you with a new perspective on life and 
precious little patience for wasted time or 
undue stress, and the liar will waste your time
and mess with your head. 
you will tell him he is killing you. he displays no 
remorse. you will scream, beg, plead, and stop 
short of borrowing and stealing to get him to
listen. 
despite his damn near single-minded obsession 
with you that will make you feel like you're
emotionally his hostage, he will not care about
the affect he's having on your other relationships 
or your well being. 

one very early fall morning, after you've spent the 
entire night in the emergency room with him and 
your fiancé, “heat above” by greta van fleet will 
come on. your fiancé will remark that it feels as though you are driving into a different 
timeline as dawn breaks. you, spiritual and full of subtle fire as ever, will respond that you feel it, too. your liar will 
say nothing. 

finally, in november, after 
months of suspicion that he's cheating on you (despite being polyamorous!) 
he will get sloppy and you'll catch him when he
forgets to turn his location off. 
this is your red line and you will dump him over it. 
to add insult to injury, he will tell you you're 
overreacting. 
you will know better than that by now. 

despite your heartbreak, you will feel more 
free after leaving him than you have in months. 
you will compile a dossier of evidence against him
and publish it to the world. 
this is when the mask and gloves come off and it 
will spark
a months long battle of he-said-she said online. 
he will slander both you and your future husband. 
you will have even fewer regrets about leaving 
him. 

one of the final acts you will do before moving 
out from the apartment you and your fiancé share with your liar
is a manifestation ritual that will make you feel 
powerful beyond imagining - you will gaze into 
a mirror with your future husband while “heat above” plays in the background. you will picture yourself in red sunglasses driving down water street with more money and fame
 than sense, husband 
next to you. you pass your former lying flame on 
the street, roll down your window, wave to him like a queen, and ride on 
as if he had never meant a thing to you in the 
first place. 

you will choose “heat above” as the song for your
intentions for the year to come after how that ritual made you 
feel. 

on January 5th, you will feature at Linneman's, your poetic home. 
you will write a brilliant bespoke set for the 
occasion, combining music, poetry, and 
references to shakespeare at the 
host’s request. the audience is small, but they are
so engaged that they offer you a standing ovation at the end.
you have nothing prepared for an encore, so you
will offer them a story about your eccentric 
great uncle. 
it will go over the time limit, but not a soul will 
care. 

you will marry your husband on January 23rd in the 
same coffeeshop that helped you work through 
your agoraphobia. the wedding will be incredibly 
small, but it will be the finest wedding either of 
you have ever attended. the poet who runs 
the workshop that got you writing again will 
write a special poem for the ceremony. 
your friend and frequent collaborator will travel
all the way from Madison to attend. your 
husband's best man will travel all the way from
iowa. your “gentleman of debauchery”, as they are called, is your dear friend who you will 
date a few months later. 

you will wake up the next day in the fabulous 
hotel that your best man and 
a friend of yours who you met 
by chance arranged for you and your husband 
to find that one of the videos you posted from 
the wedding is going viral on instagram. 
it is your first look video, and no one, friend or foe, 
will quite know what to make of it. 
within days, it will amass millions of views.
you will keep posting. 

you will start to get inundated with direct messages from people who are fascinated with 
your body after you get an idea to post videos of
yourself in lingerie that your husband found 
for you at a clothing swap, and because you are
struggling financially, you will decide to start talking 
about your Patreon more. 
to no one’s surprise but your foes, you will get 
subscribers, enough to make hundreds of dollars 
in the first two months you talk about it. 
in the meantime, you will keep going viral. 

a few weeks before your next birthday, on 
your regularly scheduled Internet travels, 
you will come across a creator who found out 
that she copes with mast cell activation syndrome 
and that she has been taking H1 and H2 inhibitors 
for it. you will tell your husband what you saw, and seeing as you've already been taking H1 
inhibitors for some time, he will find you H2 inhibitors. 
you will take them as an experiment, and the 
difference is like night and day. you will feel as 
though you are emerging from a decade in a 
long, dark cave. 

the change will frighten you. 
you will keep going anyway. 

you don't know it yet, but despite everything - 
you will do more than your best this year. 

Allēna 6/5/2026

A small café scene undergoes reduction: under epoché, the ordinary arrangement of a morning table is bracketed, released from every positing of use or existence. Before any project gathers them, these things remain in releasement, a field of appearances freed from claim or task, where even the simplest objects begin to show themselves otherwise.

https://medium.com/the-poets-corner/the-gelassenheit-of-pastry-7a4915ca1e6a

#philosophy #poetry #freeverse #Heidegger #everydaylife

A small café scene undergoes reduction: under epoché, the ordinary arrangement of a morning table is bracketed, released from every positing of use or existence. Before any project gathers them, these things remain in releasement, a field of appearances freed from claim or task, where even the simplest objects begin to show themselves otherwise.

https://medium.com/the-poets-corner/the-gelassenheit-of-pastry-7a4915ca1e6a

#philosophy #poetry #freeverse #Heidegger #everydaylife

#completethehaiga 146 #prompt hurt living in fear, the world seems unbearable- embrace love to live #Haiku #Senryu #Haiga #Tanka #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #poetrycommunity #poetryprompt #skypoets #blueskypoetry #poetrysky #PictureAndAPoem #WestCoastKin #ECK @[email protected]

#completethehaiga 146 #prompt hurt living in fear, the world seems unbearable- embrace love to live #Haiku #Senryu #Haiga #Tanka #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #poetrycommunity #poetryprompt #skypoets #blueskypoetry #poetrysky #PictureAndAPoem #WestCoastKin #ECK @[email protected]

"Go, Samurai.
Slash a throat,
And lick the blood from the crimson blade…"

• Samurái (Poem)

https://none-dc.neocities.org/Poems/Works/Samurai/

"Go, Samurai.
Slash a throat,
And lick the blood from the crimson blade…"

• Samurái (Poem)

https://none-dc.neocities.org/Poems/Works/Samurai/

Food & Emotion

A bowl half-empty,
Still, we clink our spoons and laugh—
Enough is plenty.

#Haiku #Poetry #Poems #Food #Micropoetry #FreeVerse

Food & Emotion

A bowl half-empty,
Still, we clink our spoons and laugh—
Enough is plenty.

#Haiku #Poetry #Poems #Food #Micropoetry #FreeVerse

#Emoetry | #outraged Outrage #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #WritingPrompts #Writing #writesky #WritingCommunity #poetrycommunity #poetryprompt #skypoets #blueskypoetry #poetrysky

✮ Out of Gas ✮

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The Glass Ceiling

You have to have the attitude of a brick
in order to bring down the glass ceiling above you.
The strength of a madman
and the willingness to fail.

How easy it is to point out the failures of yesterday,
and how difficult it is to admit our own failures upon inheriting our parent’s success.
There is no perfect flower in the rose garden
only the perfume of the bloom, and the smell of fertilizer.
Your tears shall not feed the roots of tomorrow
for that blessing comes from higher up.

Instead,
try nurturing a thistle of your own to perfection
sharpen the colors with love and dignity
Watch it grow in the worst of times.
For it’s core strength stems from appreciation  
and determination.

Those that forge their life from your work
hold you in honorarium!
When they dance, they dance for you
when they sing, they sing to you,
when kind words and actions flow from their souls
it’s an acknowledgement of your attentiveness.

What feeds the stem will feed the soul
and what feeds the soul, feeds your God.

Image: A Blue Thistle taken from Nature and Garden’s web-page.
used without permission.
https://www.nature-and-garden.com/gardening/thistle.html

The Glass Ceiling

You have to have the attitude of a brick
in order to bring down the glass ceiling above you.
The strength of a madman
and the willingness to fail.

How easy it is to point out the failures of yesterday,
and how difficult it is to admit our own failures upon inheriting our parent’s success.
There is no perfect flower in the rose garden
only the perfume of the bloom, and the smell of fertilizer.
Your tears shall not feed the roots of tomorrow
for that blessing comes from higher up.

Instead,
try nurturing a thistle of your own to perfection
sharpen the colors with love and dignity
Watch it grow in the worst of times.
For it’s core strength stems from appreciation  
and determination.

Those that forge their life from your work
hold you in honorarium!
When they dance, they dance for you
when they sing, they sing to you,
when kind words and actions flow from their souls
it’s an acknowledgement of your attentiveness.

What feeds the stem will feed the soul
and what feeds the soul, feeds your God.

Image: A Blue Thistle taken from Nature and Garden’s web-page.
used without permission.
https://www.nature-and-garden.com/gardening/thistle.html

#Senryu | #completethehaiga 142. Art by Josiah. sun warms the pier fish frolic under dappled light quiet contemplation #Haikufeels #Haiku #Haiga #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #PoetryCommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry @[email protected]

#Senryu | #completethehaiga 142. Art by Josiah. sun warms the pier fish frolic under dappled light quiet contemplation #Haikufeels #Haiku #Haiga #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #PoetryCommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry @[email protected]

#Emoetry | #Empty Sometimes a poem writes itself after seeing an image or word like,"empty" as this did #FreeVerse #Poetry #poetryprompt #WritingPrompts #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #poetrycommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry #ImageAndVerse #PictureAndAPoem #Photography #WestCoastKin #EastcoastKin

#Emoetry | #Empty Sometimes a poem writes itself after seeing an image or word like,"empty" as this did #FreeVerse #Poetry #poetryprompt #WritingPrompts #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #poetrycommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry #ImageAndVerse #PictureAndAPoem #Photography #WestCoastKin #EastcoastKin

#HaikuFeels | #Crash crash the thunder roars splash goes the torrential downpour. . . tranquility returns #Haiku #Senryu #Haiga #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #poetryprompt #WritingPrompts #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #skypoets #blueskypoetry #ImageAndVerse #PictureAndAPoem #Photography

#Senryu | #completethehaiga 139. Art by Josiah. the moods of the sea are as the seasonings on the food of my life #Haikufeels #Haiku #Haiga #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Homophones #WordPlay #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #PoetryCommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry @[email protected]

#Senryu | #completethehaiga 139. Art by Josiah. the moods of the sea are as the seasonings on the food of my life #Haikufeels #Haiku #Haiga #FreeVerse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Homophones #WordPlay #Writing #poetrysky #writesky #PoetryCommunity #skypoets #blueskypoetry @[email protected]

✨️🪾❄️📄❄️🪾✨️ snowy field the vastness of a blank page #EastCoastKin #ImageAndVerse #Cassiopeian Vast #haiku #俳句 #Freeverse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Photography #Nature #Wolftwin #Landscape #ClassicMono

✨️🪾❄️📄❄️🪾✨️ snowy field the vastness of a blank page #EastCoastKin #ImageAndVerse #Cassiopeian Vast #haiku #俳句 #Freeverse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Photography #Nature #Wolftwin #Landscape #ClassicMono

Having recently read it aloud at a charity event, I have finally just published to my website my 2012 essay "Lie to Me", written at the time for my friend Juli, inviting honesty, which it suggests is more about trust, immediacy and fearlessness than it is about truth. I figured somehow that Valentine's week was a good time to get it out into the world.

There is an accompanying audio reading by me. It is about 5 minutes long.

https://nhplace.com/kent/Writing/Lie-To-Me.html

#Valentine #Valentines #ValentinesDay #honesty #truth #lies #lying #trust #immediacy #honesty #essay #writing #WritingCommunity #poem #FreeVerse

Having recently read it aloud at a charity event, I have finally just published to my website my 2012 essay "Lie to Me", written at the time for my friend Juli, inviting honesty, which it suggests is more about trust, immediacy and fearlessness than it is about truth. I figured somehow that Valentine's week was a good time to get it out into the world.

There is an accompanying audio reading by me. It is about 5 minutes long.

https://nhplace.com/kent/Writing/Lie-To-Me.html

#Valentine #Valentines #ValentinesDay #honesty #truth #lies #lying #trust #immediacy #honesty #essay #writing #WritingCommunity #poem #FreeVerse

✨️🪨🌊☁️⛵️☁️🌊🪨✨️ clouds shape narrative shoal r o c k tales form a library #BlueSkyArtShow #Clouds #EastCoastKin #ImageAndVerse #Cassiopeian Libraries #haiku #俳句 #Freeverse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Photography #Nature #Wolftwin #ocean #ClassicMono

✨️🪨🌊☁️⛵️☁️🌊🪨✨️ clouds shape narrative shoal r o c k tales form a library #BlueSkyArtShow #Clouds #EastCoastKin #ImageAndVerse #Cassiopeian Libraries #haiku #俳句 #Freeverse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Photography #Nature #Wolftwin #ocean #ClassicMono

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑾𝒂𝒚𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: "(𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆)" -

an image. an act. without comment.

https://waywordsstudio.com/verse/no-poetry-here

#originalverse #refrigerator #act #resistance #aging #freeverse #grief

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑾𝒂𝒚𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: "(𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆)" -

an image. an act. without comment.

https://waywordsstudio.com/verse/no-poetry-here

#originalverse #refrigerator #act #resistance #aging #freeverse #grief

✨️🌬🌴🌊🌴🌬✨️ apogee of gentle wind s a t i n t i d e s #BlueSkyArtShow #FavoriteThings #EastCoastKin #vss365 Apogee #haiku #俳句 #Freeverse #Poetry #Micropoetry #Photography #Nature #Wolftwin #Beach #StJohn

#solitude #silence #innerlight #selfreflection #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #poetsofinstagram #poetrytok #tiktokpoetry #amwriting #freeverse #micropoetry #confessionalpoetry #lyricpoetry #soulwriting #gentlestrength #healingjourney #innerpeace #selfhealing #quietmoments #meditativepoetry

#poetry #poem #leefirefly #prose #writing #gentlestrength #tenderresistance #softpower #emotionalresilience #innerstrength #healingjourney #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #writerslife #amwriting #freeverse #micropoetry #poetsofinstagram #poeticresistance #quietpower #vulnerability #emotionaltruth

My new eBooks, Quintet for Vulgarian and Office Drone and Throwing Out Love Notes, are now available on Kindle.
#prose #poetry #freeverse #blankverse #fiction #nonfiction #shortstories #socialcommentary #blog #observationalhumor

https://www.amazon.com/s?i=digital-text&rh=p_27%3AJ.%2BM.%2BSmig&s=relevancerank&text=J.+M.+Smig&ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1

Introduction

https://libranet.de/display/0b6b25a8-1465-8bae-5cbf-8d9258507344

Introduction

https://libranet.de/display/0b6b25a8-7265-8bac-cd9c-664160105608

@jcnewmark I want to hear Mary Poppins singing that list! Doesn't rhyme though...

#poetry #haiku #senryu #gogyohka,
#parody #sa-ti-re, #humor and #WordPlay,
#puns #BlankVerse, #FreeVerse, and #meter and #rhyme,
#lipograms #homolit-er-al #constraint

#Humor