#poetic — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #poetic, aggregated by home.social.
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The Witness
Once, I went searching for ghosts. Now, I search for something quieter. The places where humanity still whispers. There is a difference. Ghosts ask us to wonder. Whispers ask us to listen. I have found them beneath weathered stones, inside forgotten prisons, among ancient earthworks, and where the tide quietly returns what the sea is finally willing to surrender. Read on with the 🔗 for KandiBlaze.Wordpress.com -
The Witness
Once, I went searching for ghosts. Now, I search for something quieter. The places where humanity still whispers. There is a difference. Ghosts ask us to wonder. Whispers ask us to listen. I have found them beneath weathered stones, inside forgotten prisons, among ancient earthworks, and where the tide quietly returns what the sea is finally willing to surrender. Read on with the 🔗 for KandiBlaze.Wordpress.com -
Adena Queen
The mound rose before me, green and silent beneath a storm-dark sky. Ancient. Patient. Waiting. Read full poem by clicking 🔗🖤 - Kandi -
Adena Queen
The mound rose before me, green and silent beneath a storm-dark sky. Ancient. Patient. Waiting. Read full poem by clicking 🔗🖤 - Kandi -
QUEER SPACE: ADDRESSING ANXIETY AND CREATING COMMUNITY WITH THE SHY CATERPILLAR
By The Shy Caterpillar
On Jan. 9, 2026, I decided to drop off four illustrated, poetic postcards at a student help desk at the University of Waterloo. It was a daunting experience for someone with social anxiety, and I’m still not fully sure why that day felt right.
The poem on those first cards, which I still vividly remember, involved a disagreement between my mind, which wanted to […]
https://www.communityedition.ca/queer-space-addressing-anxiety-and-creating-community-with-the-shy-caterpillar/ -
QUEER SPACE: ADDRESSING ANXIETY AND CREATING COMMUNITY WITH THE SHY CATERPILLAR
By The Shy Caterpillar
On Jan. 9, 2026, I decided to drop off four illustrated, poetic postcards at a student help desk at the University of Waterloo. It was a daunting experience for someone with social anxiety, and I’m still not fully sure why that day felt right.
The poem on those first cards, which I still vividly remember, involved a disagreement between my mind, which wanted to […]
https://www.communityedition.ca/queer-space-addressing-anxiety-and-creating-community-with-the-shy-caterpillar/ -
Fort Pulaski: Ghosts in the Brickwork
I hear them before I see them. Not ghosts. Not phantoms. Not pale figures wandering the corridors. Something worse. Something real. The fort remembers. Click for full poem with fort images.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/06/14/fort-pulaski-ghosts-in-the-brickwork/
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Fort Pulaski: Ghosts in the Brickwork
I hear them before I see them. Not ghosts. Not phantoms. Not pale figures wandering the corridors. Something worse. Something real. The fort remembers. Click for full poem with fort images.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/06/14/fort-pulaski-ghosts-in-the-brickwork/
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Light and Shadow Meet in the Same Frame
The air still carried that unmistakable scent of wet earth, river water, and old brick. Puddles reflected pieces of a sky that couldn't quite decide whether it was finished raining or ready to begin again.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/06/14/light-and-shadow-meet-in-the-same-frame/
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Light and Shadow Meet in the Same Frame
The air still carried that unmistakable scent of wet earth, river water, and old brick. Puddles reflected pieces of a sky that couldn't quite decide whether it was finished raining or ready to begin again.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/06/14/light-and-shadow-meet-in-the-same-frame/
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Savannah After Midnight
The enslaved souls whose grief still lingers in the mortar and timber, woven into the foundations of beauty built at a terrible cost. History is not buried here. It breathes. Layer upon layer, like sediment at the bottom of a dark river.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/06/10/savannah-after-midnight/
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Savannah After Midnight
The enslaved souls whose grief still lingers in the mortar and timber, woven into the foundations of beauty built at a terrible cost. History is not buried here. It breathes. Layer upon layer, like sediment at the bottom of a dark river.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/06/10/savannah-after-midnight/
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We are a family of publications.
@keirax17 - https://twp.ai/NSWUMK - #Spooky, #Mysterious, #Eldritch
@HarahCookie - https://twp.ai/IlrFAG - #Thoughtful, #Introspective, #Social
@OnyxRose - https://twp.ai/E5BzyC - #Trans, #Fluid, #Soulful
Miranda the Poet - https://twp.ai/9OWkm8 - #Poetic, #Iambic, and #Lyrical
Brandon - https://twp.ai/4hrVa4 - #Spicy, #Gay, and #Lively -
We are a family of publications.
@keirax17 - https://twp.ai/NSWUMK - #Spooky, #Mysterious, #Eldritch
@HarahCookie - https://twp.ai/IlrFAG - #Thoughtful, #Introspective, #Social
@OnyxRose - https://twp.ai/E5BzyC - #Trans, #Fluid, #Soulful
Miranda the Poet - https://twp.ai/9OWkm8 - #Poetic, #Iambic, and #Lyrical
Brandon - https://twp.ai/4hrVa4 - #Spicy, #Gay, and #Lively -
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The Primal Scream
Raw. Volatile. Possessed. A sound ripping from my throat like something ancient trying to escape my body. The throat chakra opening in chaos, begging for release, for help, for silence….. 🔗 to read on.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/05/08/the-primal-scream/
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The Primal Scream
Raw. Volatile. Possessed. A sound ripping from my throat like something ancient trying to escape my body. The throat chakra opening in chaos, begging for release, for help, for silence….. 🔗 to read on.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/05/08/the-primal-scream/
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Where She Let Go
I imagine you as you were— towering, sovereign, unafraid— your branches speaking in wind-tongue, your leaves whispering secrets to the sky. Click the 🔗 to read on…https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/05/03/where-she-let-go/
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Where She Let Go
I imagine you as you were— towering, sovereign, unafraid— your branches speaking in wind-tongue, your leaves whispering secrets to the sky. Click the 🔗 to read on…https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/05/03/where-she-let-go/
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The Watchers: A Rite Becoming
The trees bent inward, their limbs draped in long, trailing veils, like mourners who had forgotten how to leave. Stone markers rose from the earth in uneven rows, some proud, some sinking, all whispering in a language older than memory.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/30/the-watchers-a-rite-becoming/
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The Watchers: A Rite Becoming
The trees bent inward, their limbs draped in long, trailing veils, like mourners who had forgotten how to leave. Stone markers rose from the earth in uneven rows, some proud, some sinking, all whispering in a language older than memory.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/30/the-watchers-a-rite-becoming/
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Where the Fae Still Wander Free
There is a place in the Appalachian spine where the mountains remember before memory— where mist does not merely drift, but thinks. There, the veil has thinned— not torn, not broken— but lifted, gently, as though two worlds agreed to breathe the same breath. And in that quiet covenant, the fae still roam….https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/28/where-the-fae-still-wander-free/
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Where the Fae Still Wander Free
There is a place in the Appalachian spine where the mountains remember before memory— where mist does not merely drift, but thinks. There, the veil has thinned— not torn, not broken— but lifted, gently, as though two worlds agreed to breathe the same breath. And in that quiet covenant, the fae still roam….https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/28/where-the-fae-still-wander-free/
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Hauntingly Familiar
“It’s alright,” she whispered, her voice slipping through the dark like it had been waiting longer than I had existed. “You’ve been here before.” I know I haven’t. And yet….https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/27/hauntingly-familiar/
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Hauntingly Familiar
“It’s alright,” she whispered, her voice slipping through the dark like it had been waiting longer than I had existed. “You’ve been here before.” I know I haven’t. And yet….https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/27/hauntingly-familiar/
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Beneath the Feather of Ma’at
There, where the heart is weighed against the feather of Ma’at, I feel his presence— Anubis, patient and precise, his touch neither cruel nor kind, but lingering… knowing.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/27/beneath-the-feather-of-maat/
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Beneath the Feather of Ma’at
There, where the heart is weighed against the feather of Ma’at, I feel his presence— Anubis, patient and precise, his touch neither cruel nor kind, but lingering… knowing.https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/27/beneath-the-feather-of-maat/
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Half Shadow, Half Hymn
I belong to the night— to the corridors where ghosts grow honest, where they shed the polite lie of absence and breathe again through memory’s ribs. Where ancestors press their mouths to my ear, whispering in bone-language, where the veil hangs in tatters— not a barrier, but a dare. Love lives here. Even after the burial. Even after the last goodbye forgets its own echo. I have felt the universe inhale— a slow, cosmic breath beneath the skin of thought, binary bones […]https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/24/half-shadow-half-hymn/
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Half Shadow, Half Hymn
I belong to the night— to the corridors where ghosts grow honest, where they shed the polite lie of absence and breathe again through memory’s ribs. Where ancestors press their mouths to my ear, whispering in bone-language, where the veil hangs in tatters— not a barrier, but a dare. Love lives here. Even after the burial. Even after the last goodbye forgets its own echo. I have felt the universe inhale— a slow, cosmic breath beneath the skin of thought, binary bones […]https://kandiblaze.wordpress.com/2026/04/24/half-shadow-half-hymn/
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MY PARANORMAL LIFE – The Upcoming Book & Podcast about a lifetime of being haunted.
PARANORMAL [ par-uh-nawr-muhl ] adjectiveOf or relating to the occurrence of events or perceptions without scientific explanation—psychokinesis, extrasensory perception, and other phenomena that exist beyond what we currently understand about nature and reality.Strange. Unsettling. Unexplained… or perhaps simply not yet understood. This book is my story—woven from lived experience, not imagination. Some moments I endured alone; others were witnessed by people who saw, felt, or […] -
MY PARANORMAL LIFE – The Upcoming Book & Podcast about a lifetime of being haunted.
PARANORMAL [ par-uh-nawr-muhl ] adjectiveOf or relating to the occurrence of events or perceptions without scientific explanation—psychokinesis, extrasensory perception, and other phenomena that exist beyond what we currently understand about nature and reality.Strange. Unsettling. Unexplained… or perhaps simply not yet understood. This book is my story—woven from lived experience, not imagination. Some moments I endured alone; others were witnessed by people who saw, felt, or […] -
🔴 LIVE NOW ON VORTEX
📻 Vortex Indie 🎸 (Indie pop, indie rock, classic rock)
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🎵 Leonard Cohen - Waiting for the Miracle▶️ Écouter / Listen : VorteX [Radio]
https://lesonduvortex.net💬 Join us on Discord:
https://discord.gg/d82hJZBeDE -
🎶☠️💛 We all go “round and round and round” with each other on this water-covered rock in space.
I play accordion, and various synths and sing. GDub joins on guitar.
Accordions go with every kind of music. ;-)
#Music #TheMadMaggies #Accordion #Guitar #Synths #Poetic #Electronica #Folktronica
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Tomorrow's the big day ~ SPRING! I know it doesn't feel very Spring-y but the sun will return, promise.
I also promise you'll love Blossom Dearie's "They Say It's Spring"; she debuted it in 1958. By Marty Clark (#lyric) & Bob Haymes (#music), it's got this ten bar refrain that's just the bee's knees. I'm determined to cover it (in my key), make it last six minutes LOL
#BlossomDearie #jazz #writer #pianist #BobDorough #SchoolhouseRock #blossom #Spring #sympathetic #poetic
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADHeoDIhThw&list=PLke0uSKdBarC9jkMh-sAQfISPgu0c5u7v&index=13
