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#poet — Public Fediverse posts

Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #poet, aggregated by home.social.

  1. On se sort les doigts de la canicule (et du reste) et voilà la maquette du n°85 sur le feu (et pas au feu !), un numéro spécial, très précieux pour moi, qui accueille des auteur.ices amérindien.nes, un numéro réalisé en collaboration avec la traductrice et poète Béatrice Machet. Vous pouvez d'ores et déjà réserver ce numéro ou mieux, vous abonner !

    #revuenouveauxdelits #poesie #poete #poet #poesieamérindienne #nativeamerican #revueLittéraire #nativeamericanpoets #nativeamericanwriters

  2. The Jaime David Podcast: Episode 24 is out!

    Episode 24 of The Jaime David Podcast is out now! Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/79MRK3mJ6GWK7TbJ1cn7x9?si=3e8cc53c9b924fd7

    jaimedavid.blog/2026/09/11/23/

  3. The Jaime David Podcast: Episode 24 is out!

    Episode 24 of The Jaime David Podcast is out now! Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/79MRK3mJ6GWK7TbJ1cn7x9?si=3e8cc53c9b924fd7

    jaimedavid.blog/2026/09/11/23/

  4. #OnThisDay September 11 attacks (2001) took place against the United States killing 2,996 people, injured over 6,000 others.

    Birth Anniversary of D. H. Lawrence (1885) - English #Writer and #Poet.

    Happy Birthday Hiroshi Amano (1960) - Nobel Prize winner and one of the inventors of blue light-emitting diodes.

    knowledgezone.co.in/news

  5. new visceral poem about headaches or maybe schizophrenia or maybe stress or maybe something entirely occult and unknown... figure it out yourself...

    #poem #poetry #poet #CreativeWriting #writing

  6. new visceral poem about headaches or maybe schizophrenia or maybe stress or maybe something entirely occult and unknown... figure it out yourself...

    #poem #poetry #poet #CreativeWriting #writing

  7. new visceral poem about headaches or maybe schizophrenia or maybe stress or maybe something entirely occult and unknown... figure it out yourself...

  8. new visceral poem about headaches or maybe schizophrenia or maybe stress or maybe something entirely occult and unknown... figure it out yourself...

    #poem #poetry #poet #CreativeWriting #writing

  9. new visceral poem about headaches or maybe schizophrenia or maybe stress or maybe something entirely occult and unknown... figure it out yourself...

    #poem #poetry #poet #CreativeWriting #writing

  10. He who kills his ego’s voice, at last will hear the soul’s true choice.

    - Saiki

    #mastodon #poet #quote #life #ego

  11. Losing faith in Humanity Is A Glimpse of Hope – Carolina Maria de Jesus

    collecting what is only left outside doorsteps was kept hidden; hidden in the tongue, rather feel sensation burns of a pen then echoing voice punished because it sounds the same as shattering glasses in parties. avoiding eyes on you, whilst everyone making sure glass of wine escape the spill. Parties travel the streets full of laughter, fill Saturdays air, meanwhile wails echos in the background After knowing humanityits perversities its ambitionsI have grown olderand losingthe […]

    rhizomeatlas.wordpress.com/202

  12. From the front lines of a much-splintered #feminist movement, #RobinMorgan gave voice to #women as a #poet, #journalist, #novelist, #memoirist, #agitator & #iconoclast. She came of age in the civil rights & anti-Vietnam War movements, but along with other young women of the new left, she found those movements dominated by men, &, in particular, men who wanted to keep women as second-class citizens.

    “We were tired of making coffee & not policy,” she told The Guardian in 2006.

  13. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    In the Deep: A Poem About Jellyfish, Memory, and Darkness

    It was an old memory.
    In Norway, with unrestrained daylight,
    and slugs horned and black, wiggling out of the stalks
    of my great aunt’s garden.
    Behind her lemon house, with leafy siding,
    waxy with uncensored sunlight.

    We’re on the sea for lunch, it is black, fathomless,
    the inky water clinging to the cliffs.
    On a patio, the wind is flag-tight, whipping,
    a sightless electric current howling.
    The smell is herring, crackers, beer, and cigarette smoke
    I’m eight-years-old, eating french fries with mayo.

    Our hosts promised me jellyfish.
    “Give it about an hour, they
    come up to feed, they’re down deep.”
    We wait, the sun a muddy pearl.
    There are slivers of chittering dolphins,
    slicing and dancing through the whitecaps.

    Then, they arrive.
    Rising, slowly, a time-lapse firework
    of living lace and fire, bloomed from a perfect abyss.
    Those halos ascending
    an endless rack of bioluminescent antlers
    threaded into themselves in pulses.

    I watched over the rail.
    The seagulls cackled. The waves banged.
    More, a herd, a cluster, a squadron of coalescing fabric.
    Shards of the underworld sun blossoming upwards.
    A true kaleidoscope crown spiking
    the gloom for all these floating kings and queens.

    Now, that evening by the bay
    is almost lost against my small life
    and its own vast ocean of dark moments.
    But, I’m still here
    remembering with teary eyes
    how those perfect stars

    were forged in the crushing darkness.

    #blogging #books #norway #patrickWMarsh #poems #poet #Poetry #poetryCommunity #reading #travel #writing #writingPoetry
  14. Chewers by Masticadores @chewersmasticadores.wordpress.com@chewersmasticadores.wordpress.com ·

    5 Poems by Neha Singh Soni

    Soulmates

    My heart whispers
    the whispers of your heart
    A steady rhythm
    a love song from the start.

    A slow beat,
    a gasp, conveys
    ur love to me
    in countless ways

    A faster lub-dub,
    when you’re near,
    echoes a thrill,
    so soft, so clear…

    the whispers, the pulses,
    the heart strings
    tied together
    as we exhange rings

    ~~

    Beats per minute

    the silence between two
    heartbeats—
    the pause
    a void
    carved by a black hole

    will the heart beat again?
    it did—
    A tremble…then a thud
    the cosmos stirred

    the heartbeat between two
    silences,
    the pulse
    a lub-dub of stars
    echoing through emptiness

    a gasp of fresh air
    the realisation of life—
    Will the silence
    return again?

    ~~

    Bag of dreams

    I carry a bag of dreams
    that seems light
    to a passerby—
    the way stars seem
    to an onlooker:
    weightless,
    minuscule.
    But in truth
    they are massive—
    scorching,
    beyond reach.
    That is what
    my bag of dreams
    is like—
    light
    as a star.

    ~~

    Petrichor

    Poetry to me is like
    rain is to Earth

    I am a dry barren land
    craving poetic rain
    when suddenly cloudy thoughts begin to float all around.

    I wait calmly
    as my sky fills with
    grey hues of reflection.

    A slow breeze
    tickles my insides
    becoming a raging thunderstorm.

    Soon it starts drizzling
    a word or two,
    gradually swelling into
    a heavy shower of sentences, stanzas,
    rhymed and unrhymed
    gradually settling as
    sonnets & free verse.

    and then there the calm
    after the rain
    when all I am left with is
    petrichor of poetry.

    ~~

    ‘S’ for Solitude

    It’s the solitude
    where I belong
    And no, it is
    not loneliness,
    just the solitude
    for I am a Poet

    I have to breathe the silence
    dissolved in the air
    that envelops me,
    becoming a shield
    between the world and me

    This solitude
    secretly suffuses
    all its warmth into my soul
    and I wait in its entirety

    as silence gently
    metamorphoses
    into syllables
    into sentences
    into poetry

    It’s the solitude
    where I belong,
    not the separation,
    isolation
    just solitude
    for I am a Poet
    and
    for a poet
    solitude is bliss…

    Copyright © 2026 Neha Singh Soni
    All Rights Reserved

    #dreams #love #poet #rain #writing
  15. rhyming poem titled "what's really in the fountain?" written today during my long morning drive

    #poem #poetry #poet #rhyme #rhyming #CreativeWriting #writing

  16. Folio Fall is here! If you are bookish, reader and/or a writer we would love to have you!
    discord.gg/kgp7dp8RJt
    #bookishchallenge #zwp #zapwhampow #reader #writer #poet

  17. It says a lot about how talented Walt Whitman was, my favorite poet of all time and the biggest influence on my own poetry, that he could basically wear how queer he was on his sleeve and still be celebrated by the early 20th century as one of the all-time American greats. Even in a time when people were more "innocent" it isn't at all hard to read between the lines of his work but it is so strong many just didn't care.

    #lgbtqia #poetry #poet #poets #queer

  18. Where The Wind Brought Us

    We didn't so much seek each other out as arrive at the same place and time, two lives the wind had deposited there. We didn't anchor each other. We learned to lean into the same wind.

    thetigressawakes.wordpress.com

  19. Where Do We go When Feeling Lost – Edouard Glissant

    In the middle of no where, in an empty colourless room, transparent too. A bland space. Some may find comfort here, no expectations has been really made, floating above seas you can see through yourself, nothing is felt just as the room, it void of oneself. The idea of clarity can leave people on the edge, when a mirror become a window to see behind the walls, does it make what you see clear? Or A seamless mirror ripples into the sea, pulls your body in, turning weightless, empty as bottle […]

    rhizomeatlas.wordpress.com/202

  20. Sonnet No. 49

    Against that time, if ever that time come,
    When I shall see thee frown on my defects,
    When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum,
    Call’d to that audit by advis'd respects;
    Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass
    And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye,
    When love, converted from the thing it was,
    Shall reasons find of settled gravity,—
    Against that time do I ensconce me here
    Within the knowledge of mine own desert,
    And this my hand against myself uprear,
    To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:
    To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws,
    Since why to love I can allege no cause.

    by William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

    #Poet #Poetry #ShakespeareSonnet #ShakespeareSonnets #SonnetNo49 #WilliamShakespeare
  21. Madness is a sign of Sanity – Bessi Head

    The first thing we associate with madness is someone who has dissociated with reality, no longer walking on the thin line of normality, instead is tangled by it, fallen into a different state, looking above where they fell is people walking on the thin line of normality, pacing, running, balancing and rest are just falling. Others are hanging by the thread, dangling by the knees, whilst others use all there strengths to go above the surface, to gasp fresh air where your lungs can breathe, […]

    rhizomeatlas.wordpress.com/202

  22. Deafening Silence

    Currently people surround
    Yet I feel alone.
    So much sound,
    But my voice is though an ocean thrown a stone.

    Lonely but not in retreat,
    Music yet I do not dance.
    I look pretty neat,
    Yet do not feel engaged in your trance.

    So alone,
    Imagine if I'd be buried dead
    Left rotting no thone,
    And words all said.

    (Made a fucking house of cards btw too)

    #poem #poems #poet #poetry #smallpoems #smallpoem