#new p.s.

[casualephemera]

At my door

You arrive Hands trembling Stains of Hollow promises Of oil, ash Blood, plastic In the creases Of your palms And the skin between your fingernails

Choking on the air you poisoned You beg for forgiveness Your epiphany A sermon to the ruins Of felled forests And dust-swept plains

The lives you’ve stolen Cannot hear your plea Nor will I Weary from Decades Worn as resentment

I tell you You will not Find salvation In my home I would not Dirty my hands Cleaning those Who refused mine

[agatheringofthreads]

Pomegranate

The sky is pomegranate red at sunset.

A wayward cloud shaped like an arrow pierces the fruit and the juice drips secrets down into vessels, into valleys, into all the fields and oceans.

Clouds gather. Tides roll in. I watch from the shore, shifting with the sand, asking for my place in all of this.

The roots of trees respond to me:

Be honored. You are witness. You are watered by the storms you’ve weathered. You are lifted by the winds and you dance. You sing. You journey and return. You are pulsing, a complex system intertwining, yet a still and simple thing of nature. You are many things and many ways at many times and many places, and always through it all you are witness. There is nothing more precious you can be than that which you are.

I listen to the rustle of the wild blooms that sprout from my limbs and face and heart and everywhere, and I know that the roots speak true.

I gather the seedlings that the breeze plucks off my petals and onward, with an armful of hope, I flow.

[env0writes]

Umber Embers Vol.2, 9.19.23 “Observe Me"

As too the universe, observe me Serve me and chew me up as used meat Do me a favor and grade me on my flavor Watch how I writhe for you, like dancing Even flame will flicker in extinguished throes Shine on me all the brighter in orbit I love this song and dance we do My eyes fixed on you, yours on me Spiralize my thoughts, into your arms A place for any harm to strike with charm Watch me go, I’m yours, you know I’ll return Never fading, aiding and a’betting odds Know your petals, nursery rhymes Counting cards love me, love me not, Even this is rigged not to decay Were your orbit the same Drifting out of light, out of sight Out of reach, Observe me, changers of the night Growing from something small Such affections too chrysalize Atomize, itemize each affection Oh, how I bloom, blossom even Listening for another bang, a knock in the dark Gunshot in the park, Little less than catch and throes The years grow dizzy, Fuzzy even, mold grown on forgotten steaks How many midsummer mistakes? Chasing my vectored shadow Like the shadow of a flame Pulling everything inward As too the universe, a black hole fire Dying, building homes in hollowed out fathers’ chests Trying to figure how to fireproof a bridge Not to burn myself, A bridge to you, sturdy with wood or concrete Anything else that will endure; like my love for you Or steel Let me watch how you build It’s bound to be miserable work, Sending out starbound signals Hoping that a twinkle is in your eye Spreading that cosmic flame To body, heart, and soul

@env0writes C.Buck Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist! Photo by @env0

[jscarrie]

When it Rains in Connecticut

J.S. Carrie

There are frogs everywhere.  They spring out from the cracks in logs, The bottoms of rivers And gunk-filled ponds, And raise their noses proudly to the sky. 

If you have seen it, you will know How very small they are.  How they can rest in just The crevice of your palm.

And if you’ve seen it, You will know that there are many. There are so, so many frogs here, in the country. 

When it rains, and the air is cool, And the ground is softened From its usual harshness, and hotness, They surface out from somewhere to enjoy it. 

Dozens- no, hundreds, Of tiny little people come together. They gather in bunches On the dark-paved roads, In tandem, tilt their heads up to the sky. Have you seen the way They close their tiny eyes? How peacefully, and fully, They enjoy it. 

[poeticnorth]

Happy Autumn Equinox! As is tradition, here is my annual Autumn poem

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!

I just released my Autumn themed ebook today as well! You can purchase it right here!

[whistling-dixon]

You don’t have to die to haunt someone.

So know there are ghosts among us.

[krissiekarze]

Horseless Carriages

It seemed like a good idea at the time,

Machines that would speed up our lives,

But on rivers of coal, they poisoned the air,

On the backs of a million souls every year.

-Krissie Alex

[new-poets-society]

When you sleep, when you are away; when you turn your back and turn away, I am quietly hurting, hiding the tears, the pain, the things that drive me insane. Im hurting really bad, but could you tell? Not at all, and I think we should keep it that way.

NPS

[souldustinverse]

Since then I've learnt to 

not only accept the unknown 

but to even appreciate it

for all that with it might come:

Darkness doesn't fear me anymore. 

Darkness is what I'm now opting for. 

For only when no lantern's shining

one can see the stars in the sky. 

And only when the sun is hiding, 

behind the clouds that hang up high, 

one can hope for rainbows appearing, 

one can hope for better times. 

Darkness teaches us not to lose faith

and instead finding hope in going our way,

knowing that even with eyes being swathed, 

it's our own light that turns night into day. 

All pictures taken from pixabay

[mineowncreationizm]

Silence

Rough Draft- Written 7/11/2023

I am learning

To hold space

For silence

I have spent

My whole life

Hardly breathing

Between words

My mind

Is never quiet

Sometimes

The clamor of thoughts

Is so deafening

It has to pour out

From my mouth-

My throat-

Lest I explode

From the pressure

But

I am not

The only one

With a noisy mind

To give them

Room to have a voice

I need to learn

To give them

The courtesy

Of silence

Not every minute

Second

Moment

Must be filled with words

Sometimes silence

Says more

Than my voice

Ever could

[skelnix]

Maybe I would’ve liked to have been a florist.

an original poem.

Your staircase is taller

than mine,

and I wonder if our

journeys will still

end the same.

Maybe I would’ve liked

to have been

a florist,

or a painter, or

a dancer.

I can still dance

for you.

Dance my way up

your staircase,

and back down again

to take my leave;

I’ll end my journey

where yours begins.

[souldustinverse]

Is there anything more aesthetic than carrying home nature? Is there anything more poetic than calling nature home?

[env0writes]

Umber Embers Vol.2, 9.18.23 “It's Bound To Work Out: Somehow"

Let each day have the opportunity To ruin it for itself No need for the days former To do that on for today Face each day with gumption Even as the days grow sad Pick a target, a focus, an assumption Even as the rain refuses to fall Breathe deep the air in your lungs Pump the blood through your veins Keep your goals in your mind No matter the pains Tomorrow’s problems can’t be afforded Well warded is today Full of opportunity to make or break Any lingering threads of thought; focus Yesterday’s woes are downstream Tomorrow’s round the bend Today has rapids paddling through Balance, wet and worried Paddle in hand, I’ll make it through To see what’s in store for me And you

@env0writes C.Buck Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist! Photo by @env0

[jscarrie]

Oh Please

J.S. Carrie

I look at trees, please, please. I look and wonder who else sees?

Why scorn for rhyming poetry, when both our skin has touched this breeze?

If you ask me... Tradition can be lovely.

Tradition can be growth, even when the growth is new. Red For Luck and Celtic Knot and Nesting Doll and Handshakes.

Do you prefer paved roads, or cobbled? We both will see. (So much-- and never enough to compare it.) There is music. So much music, I will never hear it all. Despite, with gall, and valiantly, I try. I look at trees, oh please, oh please. I ponder on them wisely. Legs burning from the run. arms heavy from the crates of china, shipping out. Fingers stiff from folding cranes, connecting with all I think of. Empathy, oh please, I look at trees. Oh please, please, please, I look at trees.

[poeticnorth]

New poem! New poem! New poem!

[krissiekarze]

Cities.

The world outside grows wider, empty space yearns to be filled.

But the world inside closes in. Reality smaller than ever.

What once was brimming with laughter and song, I now see only a smog.

Within my walls I hide alone, fantasy my only true friend.