#poet — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #poet, aggregated by home.social.
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#MissKitty is an #author. Published #poet #nonfiction #fiction. More #OTW. #Language is a torturous challenge. Precision is best found in the ether of the moment. A beautiful place to be. Sometimes a hard place to stay. #Communication is the most demanding #skill & the most needed today. 🔦🔦🔦
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#MissKitty is an #author. Published #poet #nonfiction #fiction. More #OTW. #Language is a torturous challenge. Precision is best found in the ether of the moment. A beautiful place to be. Sometimes a hard place to stay. #Communication is the most demanding #skill & the most needed today. 🔦🔦🔦
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#MissKitty is an #author. Published #poet #nonfiction #fiction. More #OTW. #Language is a torturous challenge. Precision is best found in the ether of the moment. A beautiful place to be. Sometimes a hard place to stay. #Communication is the most demanding #skill & the most needed today. 🔦🔦🔦
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#MissKitty is an #author. Published #poet #nonfiction #fiction. More #OTW. #Language is a torturous challenge. Precision is best found in the ether of the moment. A beautiful place to be. Sometimes a hard place to stay. #Communication is the most demanding #skill & the most needed today. 🔦🔦🔦
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#MissKitty is an #author. Published #poet #nonfiction #fiction. More #OTW. #Language is a torturous challenge. Precision is best found in the ether of the moment. A beautiful place to be. Sometimes a hard place to stay. #Communication is the most demanding #skill & the most needed today. 🔦🔦🔦
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Mic check!
15 years & #Occupy is as relevant and needed as ever!In honor of #S17, I call on my #writer #solarpunk #poet friends to join me with micro fiction or poetry.
Here's what I just put on bsky, expanded:
Lajfa (aka Lady Liberty) has the sight: the energy radiating from Zuccotti forms a massive beacon that tastes of her torch, for Liberty And Justice For All.
How could she not join?
Her torch flared, became one with glorious liberatory community.
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Mic check!
15 years & #Occupy is as relevant and needed as ever!In honor of #S17, I call on my #writer #solarpunk #poet friends to join me with micro fiction or poetry.
Here's what I just put on bsky, expanded:
Lajfa (aka Lady Liberty) has the sight: the energy radiating from Zuccotti forms a massive beacon that tastes of her torch, for Liberty And Justice For All.
How could she not join?
Her torch flared, became one with glorious liberatory community.
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Mic check!
15 years & #Occupy is as relevant and needed as ever!In honor of #S17, I call on my #writer #solarpunk #poet friends to join me with micro fiction or poetry.
Here's what I just put on bsky, expanded:
Lajfa (aka Lady Liberty) has the sight: the energy radiating from Zuccotti forms a massive beacon that tastes of her torch, for Liberty And Justice For All.
How could she not join?
Her torch flared, became one with glorious liberatory community.
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Mic check!
15 years & #Occupy is as relevant and needed as ever!In honor of #S17, I call on my #writer #solarpunk #poet friends to join me with micro fiction or poetry.
Here's what I just put on bsky, expanded:
Lajfa (aka Lady Liberty) has the sight: the energy radiating from Zuccotti forms a massive beacon that tastes of her torch, for Liberty And Justice For All.
How could she not join?
Her torch flared, became one with glorious liberatory community.
-
Mic check!
15 years & #Occupy is as relevant and needed as ever!In honor of #S17, I call on my #writer #solarpunk #poet friends to join me with micro fiction or poetry.
Here's what I just put on bsky, expanded:
Lajfa (aka Lady Liberty) has the sight: the energy radiating from Zuccotti forms a massive beacon that tastes of her torch, for Liberty And Justice For All.
How could she not join?
Her torch flared, became one with glorious liberatory community.
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Arms length
I receive butterflies at your sight,
And they tell me to ask to to dance,
To walk you home at night,
Then my nerves erupt saying I have no chance.Alas our friendship bonds too tight
That I can’t let you know I’d melt at your glance.
Every moment with you is a delight
Yet there can be not a shred of romance. -
Arms length
I receive butterflies at your sight,
And they tell me to ask to to dance,
To walk you home at night,
Then my nerves erupt saying I have no chance.Alas our friendship bonds too tight
That I can’t let you know I’d melt at your glance.
Every moment with you is a delight
Yet there can be not a shred of romance. -
Arms length
I receive butterflies at your sight,
And they tell me to ask to to dance,
To walk you home at night,
Then my nerves erupt saying I have no chance.Alas our friendship bonds too tight
That I can’t let you know I’d melt at your glance.
Every moment with you is a delight
Yet there can be not a shred of romance. -
Arms length
I receive butterflies at your sight,
And they tell me to ask to to dance,
To walk you home at night,
Then my nerves erupt saying I have no chance.Alas our friendship bonds too tight
That I can’t let you know I’d melt at your glance.
Every moment with you is a delight
Yet there can be not a shred of romance. -
Arms length
I receive butterflies at your sight,
And they tell me to ask to to dance,
To walk you home at night,
Then my nerves erupt saying I have no chance.Alas our friendship bonds too tight
That I can’t let you know I’d melt at your glance.
Every moment with you is a delight
Yet there can be not a shred of romance. -
The Cast Iron Star: A Poem About Hoarding, Memory, and the Weight of the Past
My father’s hoarding heart
is bending bricks in his garage
creasing the foundation, plunging
his house downward,
closer to the pit of poverty
he barely clawed out from.At first, just artifacts and relics
leftovers of his past life
recovered from his dead family.
Immortalized in tins, boxes,
bins, stacks, and piles in his office,
study, backroom, and garages.My mom would whisper to me
that he’d always be this way
perpetually holding, gathering, keeping
things for the future, or to anchor the past
a rudderless 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 #blogging #books #family #hoarding #memory #patrickWMarsh #poem #poet #Poetry #poetryCommunity #reading #writing #writingPoetry -
The Cast Iron Star: A Poem About Hoarding, Memory, and the Weight of the Past
My father’s hoarding heart
is bending bricks in his garage
creasing the foundation, plunging
his house downward,
closer to the pit of poverty
he barely clawed out from.At first, just artifacts and relics
leftovers of his past life
recovered from his dead family.
Immortalized in tins, boxes,
bins, stacks, and piles in his office,
study, backroom, and garages.My mom would whisper to me
that he’d always be this way
perpetually holding, gathering, keeping
things for the future, or to anchor the past
a rudderless 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 #blogging #books #family #hoarding #memory #patrickWMarsh #poem #poet #Poetry #poetryCommunity #reading #writing #writingPoetry -
The Cast Iron Star: A Poem About Hoarding, Memory, and the Weight of the Past
My father’s hoarding heart
is bending bricks in his garage
creasing the foundation, plunging
his house downward,
closer to the pit of poverty
he barely clawed out from.At first, just artifacts and relics
leftovers of his past life
recovered from his dead family.
Immortalized in tins, boxes,
bins, stacks, and piles in his office,
study, backroom, and garages.My mom would whisper to me
that he’d always be this way
perpetually holding, gathering, keeping
things for the future, or to anchor the past
a rudderless 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 #blogging #books #family #hoarding #memory #patrickWMarsh #poem #poet #Poetry #poetryCommunity #reading #writing #writingPoetry -
The Cast Iron Star: A Poem About Hoarding, Memory, and the Weight of the Past
My father’s hoarding heart
is bending bricks in his garage
creasing the foundation, plunging
his house downward,
closer to the pit of poverty
he barely clawed out from.At first, just artifacts and relics
leftovers of his past life
recovered from his dead family.
Immortalized in tins, boxes,
bins, stacks, and piles in his office,
study, backroom, and garages.My mom would whisper to me
that he’d always be this way
perpetually holding, gathering, keeping
things for the future, or to anchor the past
a rudderless 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 #blogging #books #family #hoarding #memory #patrickWMarsh #poem #poet #Poetry #poetryCommunity #reading #writing #writingPoetry -
The Cast Iron Star: A Poem About Hoarding, Memory, and the Weight of the Past
My father’s hoarding heart
is bending bricks in his garage
creasing the foundation, plunging
his house downward,
closer to the pit of poverty
he barely clawed out from.At first, just artifacts and relics
leftovers of his past life
recovered from his dead family.
Immortalized in tins, boxes,
bins, stacks, and piles in his office,
study, backroom, and garages.My mom would whisper to me
that he’d always be this way
perpetually holding, gathering, keeping
things for the future, or to anchor the past
a rudderless 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 #blogging #books #family #hoarding #memory #patrickWMarsh #poem #poet #Poetry #poetryCommunity #reading #writing #writingPoetry -
Remembering the timeless #FedericoGarciaLorca. 🏳️🌈 A beacon of #Courage, his words offered an unspoken solace to many in the #LGBTQ community. Lorca wasn't just a #Poet, but a symbol of #Resist and a #Trailblazer for #QueerRepresentation in literature. His #LGBTQLiterature and legacy continue to #Inspire and motivate us, a reminder to embrace our identities and #LoveisLove fearlessly. We honor his bravery, talent, and contribution to #LGBTQHistory. 💪🌈 His life serves as a beacon o
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Remembering the timeless #FedericoGarciaLorca. 🏳️🌈 A beacon of #Courage, his words offered an unspoken solace to many in the #LGBTQ community. Lorca wasn't just a #Poet, but a symbol of #Resist and a #Trailblazer for #QueerRepresentation in literature. His #LGBTQLiterature and legacy continue to #Inspire and motivate us, a reminder to embrace our identities and #LoveisLove fearlessly. We honor his bravery, talent, and contribution to #LGBTQHistory. 💪🌈 His life serves as a beacon o
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Remembering the timeless #FedericoGarciaLorca. 🏳️🌈 A beacon of #Courage, his words offered an unspoken solace to many in the #LGBTQ community. Lorca wasn't just a #Poet, but a symbol of #Resist and a #Trailblazer for #QueerRepresentation in literature. His #LGBTQLiterature and legacy continue to #Inspire and motivate us, a reminder to embrace our identities and #LoveisLove fearlessly. We honor his bravery, talent, and contribution to #LGBTQHistory. 💪🌈 His life serves as a beacon o
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Remembering the timeless #FedericoGarciaLorca. 🏳️🌈 A beacon of #Courage, his words offered an unspoken solace to many in the #LGBTQ community. Lorca wasn't just a #Poet, but a symbol of #Resist and a #Trailblazer for #QueerRepresentation in literature. His #LGBTQLiterature and legacy continue to #Inspire and motivate us, a reminder to embrace our identities and #LoveisLove fearlessly. We honor his bravery, talent, and contribution to #LGBTQHistory. 💪🌈 His life serves as a beacon o
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Remembering the timeless #FedericoGarciaLorca. 🏳️🌈 A beacon of #Courage, his words offered an unspoken solace to many in the #LGBTQ community. Lorca wasn't just a #Poet, but a symbol of #Resist and a #Trailblazer for #QueerRepresentation in literature. His #LGBTQLiterature and legacy continue to #Inspire and motivate us, a reminder to embrace our identities and #LoveisLove fearlessly. We honor his bravery, talent, and contribution to #LGBTQHistory. 💪🌈 His life serves as a beacon o
