#poem-of-the-day — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #poem-of-the-day, aggregated by home.social.
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THE 5 SECOND RULE
From my upcoming book THE COLLECTION.
#food #foodrules #dinneretiquette #etiquette #rules #poetrycommunity #limerick #funny #limericks #poet #comedy #humour #poemoftheday #poetry #laughs #fyp #followers #foodadvice -
WINNIE THE POOH
Yesterday, 14th October, Winnie The Pooh was 100 years old. Here is my limerick about him from my upcoming book THE COLLECTION, available 28th November.
#winniethepooh #winniethepooh100thanniversary #laughs #poet #poetry #comedy #limericks #poemoftheday #funny #humour #limerick -
GRANNYS LAST STAND
One of my favourites from my upcoming book THE COLLECTION.
#poetrycommunity #comedy #fyp #poemoftheday #poet #funny #humour #limerick #puns #laughs #poetry #followers #punspunspuns #newreleases #poetrybook #newbook #bookrelease #bookrecommendation #kindle #author #speechless -
GRANNYS LAST STAND
One of my favourites from my upcoming book THE COLLECTION.
#poetrycommunity #comedy #fyp #poemoftheday #poet #funny #humour #limerick #puns #laughs #poetry #followers #punspunspuns #newreleases #poetrybook #newbook #bookrelease #bookrecommendation #kindle #author #speechless -
SENSES
This is from my upcoming book THE COLLECTION which is available at the end of November. Thank you for all your support. Every like, share or follow means a great deal.
#limerick #poemoftheday #poetrycommunity #poet #funny #comedy #puns #humour #fyp -
SENSES
This is from my upcoming book THE COLLECTION which is available at the end of November. Thank you for all your support. Every like, share or follow means a great deal.
#limerick #poemoftheday #poetrycommunity #poet #funny #comedy #puns #humour #fyp -
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INCERTIDUMBRE
Nunca se aprende a naufragar
cuando se camina
con fuego en las pupilas.Arden los párpados
hasta fundirse,
buscando
unas nubes tristes
que anuncian un llanto
que se pierde en el horizonte.¿Puede el mar ser solo un anhelo?
Quizá solo haya que arder
hasta notar la lluvia.Tal vez necesite una sonrisa,
—esa sonrisa—#poem
#poemoftheday
#incertidumbre
#sonrisa
#literature
#versos -
Good morning, lovely people.
The sun shines down
Green turns to brown
The ice cream splatters
Heat record shatters.I long for some frost
In mists to be lost
When fires warm the face
An altogether slower pace.But another day of pain
How long I wish for rain
This weather is over rated
For this I'll be berated. -
VUELA EL RECUERDO
Pasear entre los pensamientos
para agrietar los recuerdos.Como vuela la mariposa
entre las briznas
en busca del azahar.#poesia
#escrituracreativa
#poetrycommunity
#viaje
#poemoftheday
#vuelo -
The Warehouse Window
For my sunlight,
its glass cut through a concrete wall
the edges crumbled and rocky,
like an unfinished birthday cake.
No place for symmetry or neatness
when testing and receiving
networking equipment with a candelabra of cords.
The whir of fans, hard drives,
circuit boards, modules, and power supplies
are their own orchestra.I’m their repeating crowd for this ensemble
I have memorized all their
performances, crescendos, movements,
choruses, and solos.
The yoked fluorescent lights,
stallion forklift, or gluttonous cardboard compactor
endlessly feasting in the corner
by the loading dock where
an occasional wasp wanders inside this mirage
to die in a papery sleep.That sunshine above’s the same
as in my son’s elementary school window
sloping through the courtyard where ferns
and flowerpots hide a dry duck nest.
The kids named her Simone.
She has three eggs
an opaque olive, pearl, and coral.
They’re blurbs of shell and membrane.
They wanted to name them too,
but those dreams weren’t real yet.
You have to know they’ll live.I knew my classroom wall
beside our courtyard door
where we pasted, crinkled, and scribbled
dinosaurs, sloths, and squids
against paper sorceries of
marine life, prehistoric countrysides,
and endless amazon jungles.
We had our own momma duck too,
her name long empty amongst almost everything
I remembered, wondered,
and dreamedin fourth grade.
#author #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing
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Poem of the Day: "Twilight of Wisdom" #poetry #poem #poemoftheday
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The Anonymous User
Relatable for every ghost account grinding in silence... #Anonymous #PoertyCommunity #AnonymousUser #Poetry #Philosophy #MorcuxWrites #VerseVibes #ThoughtProvoking #WriterCommunity #MindfulMoments #Art #InstaWrite #SelfDiscovery #PoemOfTheDay #anonymousUser87 🖤🖤🖤
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15 years ago I was living in my grandma's old house, and my dad ended up selling it because of life and such. This poem is about what I found carved on a pillar by my uncle and him when they were children. Enjoy!
#poem #poetry #reading #poetrycommunity #poems #writing #poetrylover #poemoftheday
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2025/12/10/you-are-the-king-and-i-am-your-star/
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“You are the King, and I am your Star”
It was etched, carved, and bled there
by you and my uncle.
A lost language scribbled
upon your trauma Rosetta Stone.
Years after you’d moved off
the street, shack, slum
and into this real home,
devoid of rats, rags,
and abusive fathers.It was on a beam in the basement,
behind an old TV box,
with dead earwigs in its folds.
The house once had a garden
from your mother, my grandmother.
And those bugs, the clawed ink-drops
were living everywhere
their husks, fossil-songs
to her stalks of cherry tomatoes.The wood was creased, parted,
and curled, as if the vignette had just happened.
You were still the two little boys
marking it yours, with the sunlight
tracing through a ground-level window,
growing life in a non-chlorophyll pattern
from 94 million miles away
a natural spotlight on hope between past and future.We found it when I was moving out.
Another bout of depression, failed
relationship, and unpaid rent
for your childhood home
you bought when grandma died.
It was a piece of you; something you wanted
for memory, family, a forever symbol of safety.
A limb of hope after
so many emotional dismemberments.I could not hold onto it,
It was slippery, slimy, a dream that didn’t want
to be held, an eel lurking in the quagmire,
eternally wriggling away
beneath the subtlest grasp.
Your sanctuary was another rubble-sunk Atlantis,
so now, years after it was sold and lost
your first glimmer amongst the povertyI can at least remember what it said.
#blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing
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Triggers with depression and trauma are everywhere. Accepting them into your daily life is tricky. Sunlight marks my memory thoroughly. Just another journey to be one.
#poetry #poem #writing #reading #poems #poetrylovers #poemoftheday #poetrycommunity #ampoetry #trauma #depression #mentalillness
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2025/12/03/i-cant-change-the-sunlight-2/
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I Can’t Change the Sunlight
First, it was the beams between dust,
highlighting particles dancing
in my parent’s basement
with chocolate carpet and an eyebrow window.
Where we, old friends and lovers,
would swap dreams and desires
until you tearfully realized I couldn’t do anything
but wrestle with my depression.Then, rays of it glittering in jeweled reflections
during our honeymoon
on an emerald lagoon, with tropic tips, and
bows of sand being plucked by Key Largo waves.
That sediment could never be a keep or castle,
it was too broken, fragmented,
and fragile to form any support.
Just like us.Next was the morning slanting through
the bay window over the couch of our old house.
A theater seat for our fights, screaming, throwing, thrashing,
and every detail of my unending depression.
You, my son, are on my lap, asleep, an infant.
I’m crying, and the tears sting your forehead.
I wipe them away, my trauma baptism,
I have an endless supply.This stardust anchor falling through time
and space, cracking the earth’s atmosphere,
honing our existence, growing our cells,
is a cosmic stake piercing my heart.
It will not end me. I’m always undead.
Worse, it reminds me honestly
that this daylight trigger
will always be thereas long as I am.
#ampoetry #author #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poetry #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing
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I wrote this poem about my father's struggles with hoarding throughout his life. It comes and goes, and the more I learn about my own trauma, the more I see his hoarding reflected in his. Enjoy.
#poem #poetry #writing #reading #hoarding #family #poet #ampoetry #poemoftheday
https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2025/11/26/the-cast-iron-star-2/
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The Cast Iron Star
My father’s hoarding heart
is bending bricks in his garage
creasing the foundation, turning
his house downward,
closer to the pit
he clawed out from.At first, just artifacts
bits of his past lives
recovered from dead family.
Immortalized in tins, boxes,
bins, stacks, and piles in his office,
study, backroom, and garages.My mother would whisper
that he’d always be this way
perpetually holding, gathering, keeping
things for the future, or to anchor the past
a ship adrift in trauma and loss,
without a compass or map.I stare at that cast-iron bathtub,
the 600 pound invertebrate
bulging out of this house’s spine.
Another shadow added to his grief silhouette
a mixed-media of material requiems
to his past and present.I know that when he dies
it’ll still be here.
I don’t have the strength to move it.
How could I pluck his favorite constellation
of its most beloved star?
For him,it’ll always lead home.
#ampoetry #amwriting #books #family #hoarding #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetry #reading #writing
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Poem of the Day: "Rainbird" #poetry #poem #poemoftheday
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Poem of the Day: "Mindful Note" #poetry #poem #poemoftheday
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Poem of the Day: "Auburn Beast" #poetry #poem #poemoftheday
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Poem of the Day: "Ode to Caffeine" #poetry #poem #poemoftheday
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Read my poem “Kindness”
Give me trauma on a blackboard
I’ll glitter all its owls and tentacles
encircling and stamping the
freakish and rancid record we
have etched on the atoms of our reality.Afterall, we all shatter, hurt, and harm.
Life is an appalling confectioner of pain.
We do it minutely and majorly
tying these cruel ribbons
together over our own coffin.When the good and kind happens,
those cerulean clouds hanging
on the smeared edge of a Bob Ross painting
we wonder how to feel, breathe, and act,
as if happiness were the vaguest whisper.We’re always nurturing doubt,
a mandrake necktie perpetually tightened
by anyone at any moment of any time.
It isn’t nemesis specific
but a negative, shapeshifting terrain.I’m so proficient at the dark
it’s my tallest city, a hades overpopulated.
The rain-colored afternoon is always preferred
and when the system splits and
the jailed trees bloomI don’t know what to do.
#creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #poem #poemOfTheDay #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing
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Of blooming flowers
I love the path
Towards the horizon
And the end
Of this day
Of May.-Debora Radice
#poetry #poem #poems #poesia #poesie #thoughts #pensieri #thought #pensiero #poemoftheday #thoughtoftheday #poesiadelgiorno #pensierodelgiorno
