“I dream of a life with someone I’ve lost,
when the world is asleep and it’s 4 am.”
— memoirsofbilal (via Instagram)
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For National Poetry Day 2023, I am picking Sylvia Plath's poem "Mushrooms" from her first volume The Colossus, published in 1960.
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Today my head
is cotton-stuffed
And I do not know how to word
But I have licked
this page
So I can say: this belongs to me
This
at least
is mine.
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Covenant
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In honour of today being both National Poetry Day and National Badger Day:
Badger looking cute
Black and white
Chonky boy that bites
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happy national poetry day. have some one liners I haven't found a home for yet.
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Our Souls Long For New Conquests 3.17.23
"Stormy Day"
Gentle rain fall soft on my windowsill
Drum little finger droplets
Counting wet woolled sheep
And send me from pain
From sorrow and solitude
Into sleep and sweet dreams
@env0writesC.Buck
Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0
Support Your Local Artist!
Photo by @mynamemeanscloud
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04/11/2024 is National Poetry Day 🇭🇺, World Parkinson's Day 🌎, National Barber Shop Quartet Day 🇺🇸, National Cheese Fondue Day 🇺🇸, National Eight Track Tape Day 🇺🇸, National Pet Day 🐱🐶🐹🐰🇺🇸, National Submarine Day 🇺🇸, National Teach Children to Save Day 💰🇺🇸, National Support Teen Literature Day 🇺🇸
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It’s National Poetry Day in the Uk. Here is my poem about loss, a eulogy. (If it resonates with you please feel free to copy and use with acknowledgment) ‘You will be so Missed’ by Lisa Lopresti
You will be so Missed
Only in loss
do we understand value.
Tears are the words
we cannot speak,
pain & shock of what happened
and the loss of whatever will.
Our mourning is our love,
unable to reach you.
We miss the future
you were supposed to have.
Our grief will change over time-
but never end.
Poem by Lisa Lopresti
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Little slime on my
ranch, please eat more cubberies
and make many plorts.
by @unforth
Celebrate National Haiku Day, April 17th 2023, with Duck Prints Press!
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Happy National Poetry Day!
I wanted to share my favorite poem:
“Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe.
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
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It's national poetry day
and I like men because I'm gay
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Watch Your Tense and Case, by Daphne Gottlieb
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an ode to poetry
Hail the singers of words,
To those who give a spin on prose,
Raise your voices for these souls,
Those who change the game.
Can we get a beat drop to these lexical geniuses?
With every word, they can spit anything when they focus in,
Oh, what the things they can express could make endless hits,
No two of us are the same.
We've all started from somewhere,
One might've had a great past, but another elsewhere
May have had a rocky journey from the bottom up where,
We all find the gift we should claim.
This twist of words is both ancient and modern,
Written by people both high-class and downtrodden,
Used for everything, never forgotten,
The words that described these endless nights and days.
This art is something we've all learned,
As people, from around the whole world,
Sometimes, as people have observed,
These lexemes have changed old ways.
Hail the writers and poets of our days,
We, a community, a guiding hand if one goes astray,
Self-expression? We've found a way,
Just as beautiful as any other style, a style that lets us escape.
-Vedika Zope (SevereInternetParadise)
Written on March 21, 2023
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We only have a short while
So quick, let me tell you
We’re too far gone to turn this around
I can’t believe
We have it in us to put this world right
It is all too late, too late
How can you say
But do not give up hope
Every day the planet burns a little more
And hot air rises
While governments pump out empty promises
We are powerless
Don’t be so foolish to imagine that
Together we have a voice
Big enough to change the world
The decisions we make each day are
Unimportant
The food we eat, the things we buy, how we get around
How naïve to think
The destruction of centuries could be undone
In a few decades
If we could just find reverse
(now read this poem from bottom to top)
Every day the planet burns a little more - Brian Bilston for National Poetry Day, October 6, 2022
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