#poetic journey

[glennriley49]

Through the Storms

We began as fireworks in the night,

Lighting shadows with a dazzling sight.

Each word, sweet honey on the tongue,

Moments cherished, songs unsung.

But as twilight stretched, we lost our way,

Whispers sharpened, turned to fray.

When sparks grew dim, and warmth withdrew,

Lonely winds of silence blew.

Are we ready for the storms ahead,

The stinging rain, the paths we dread?

Love’s no tale of endless cheer,

It’s both the laughter and the tear.

Through deserts vast, forests deep,

We’ll seek the home our hearts would keep.

To touch that distant, sunlit shore,

We face the storm, endure once more.

Insecurity, a silent shade,

Jealousy, a thief well-played.

When joy falters, silence reigns,

Drowning echoes, unvoiced pains.

Promises once carved in gold,

Now crack under the strain they hold.

Yet still I rise, to fight, to mend,

To brave what’s broken, to defend.

Are we ready for the storms to come,

When voices falter, hearts go numb?

Love’s no tale spun from ease,

It’s the tempest and the breeze.

Through barren sands, tangled trees,

We’ll chase our hope, though on our knees.

To reach that paradise unknown,

We face the storm, and face it alone.

Each scar a testament, each tear a verse,

In pain we grow, for better or worse.

When arms entwine, when blame recedes,

We find the strength our story needs.

Let’s sit, let’s speak, and dare to trust,

For love demands, not gold but dust.

If we desire to watch it bloom,

We must brave the storm, clear the gloom.

Are we ready for the storms we fear,

The bitter truths, the falling tear?

Love’s no fable, dressed in light,

It’s the daybreak and the night.

Through paths unknown, we’ll chart our course,

Through doubt, through hope, through pure remorse.

To find the peace, the dream reborn,

We stand together, weather-worn.

Take my hand, through torrents fierce,

Hearts as armor, words to pierce.

Nothing treasured comes with ease,

But it's worth the fight, through storm, through peace.

Are we ready, battle-bound,

For love that bends but stays profound?

Through every high and every low,

This love, our anchor, will only grow.

@raceyrhymes @samcrosfaith

@ladyeckland28 @solesofwonder

[the-unrestrained-poet]

You silenced me then- You can’t now, The silence speaks. My mouth Can’t utter it- That word. But my body? My body screams it- The world  Will forget you. But your crime? Everyone,  Will know.

-Teagan R. Nault

[jadeannbyrne]

Shel Silverstein: A Tribute to the Poet Who Coaxed Jade Ann Byrne Beyond the Sidewalk

Shel Silverstein: A Tribute to the Poet Who Coaxed Jade Ann Byrne Beyond the Sidewalk Shel Silverstein was a poet, cartoonist, musician, and author who left an indelible mark on the world of children’s literature and beyond. Born in 1930 in Chicago, Silverstein’s work was characterized by its unique blend of humor, whimsy, and a deep understanding of the human experience. He was a master of both…

[samw3000]

Amen!

I am a diva with many successesBut frayedbecause I perfer not to lay down my edgesAndIf I were to be anyone elseI'd only want to beA better version of Me It took half a centuryOn this earthTo realize my worthI hope it doesn't take another fiftyfor You to recognize the worth in Me © 2024 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.

[motherlanguageday]

Share poems or songs from their mother tongue or from a language they are learning.

This online event is being held to explain more about ‘Mother Tongue Other Tongue’, an annual free competition for young people aged from 8-18. The competition invites pupils to share poems or songs from their mother tongue or from a language they are learning.

This event is aimed at anyone wishing to run the project in their school or community setting. It will provide resources and ideas that can be used directly in classrooms, online or in groups.

IMLD 2024: MOTHER TONGUE OTHER TONGUE 2024 COMPETITION LAUNCH ONLINE CPD WEBINAR DATE: 27 February 2024 TIME: 6:00 pm to 7:45 pm AGES: All ages welcome PRICE: Free FORMAT: Online THEME: Languages ORGANISER: Manchester Poetry Library

BOOK TICKETS

[roseacademia]

*taps mic*

Hello, hello, yes. You can hear me now, I can hear you to, didn't lose my hearing, yet.

I'd like to present you one of my most favorite poems of mine. Purely fictional, precise and written with the help of AI. As you can see, the key words in a couple of verses start from the same letter. I gave chatgpt the word I wanted to put there and asked it to provide me a word that starts with, let's say, r for that.

It's a story of two people who fall in love with each other but they fall apart. Yes, that's all I'll provide here. There will be a poll on my page and you can vote if you'd like to know more.

Toodles! *disappears in sparkles*

[angies-writing-blog]

Trapped beneath his weight is your body, every muscle tensed, but against his raw strength, you stand no chance. Sun Wukong looms over you, his eyes glowing with a dark, unforgiving light that brooks no dissent.

As he holds you mercilessly, your breath comes in ragged gasps. His claws rake across your skin, carving deep lines that burn and bleed. First, a gentle scrape, then a sharp bite—you feel his teeth at your neck, sinking into your flesh, wanting to take a piece of you, to mark you as his forever.

With a force that shows no regard for restraint, he thrusts into you. You feel him cross every boundary, as if he's forgotten that you're made of flesh and blood, fragile in your humanity.

Each thrust is an unrelenting claim on you; his claws dig into your hips, pulling you harder against him. Your body trembles under the intensity, and though you want to resist, you find yourself helpless in his grip, caught between desire and fear. Meanwhile, his teeth are everywhere—nibbling, biting, tearing at your skin as though he intends to possess you completely, as if every fiber of your being is meant for him alone.

The heat of his breath, the sting of his touch, the sharp claws piercing you—all of it blends into a whirl from which there is no escape. You are his prey, and Wukong hunts you to the brink of your endurance. His deep moans merge with yours, a wild, animalistic sound that makes you believe he would continue even if all strength left your limbs.

Then, after a final, deep thrust, he collapses over you, his body trembling with unbridled power. You feel him come inside you, hot and unstoppable, an ultimate claim on you that embeds itself in every fiber of your being. His claws dig deeper into your skin as his breath crashes against your ear, a silent cry that speaks of all his passion and power. Finally, his arms wrap tightly around you, as if he'll never let you go, and with every deep breath, you feel him claim you forever.

[saturnvs]

am overcome with nostalgia and i must draw her

[vielesundnichts]

- r.h. Sin

[saintescuderia]

some thoughts on the beef...

now, i will preface this by the admission: i did my masters thesis on kendrick lamar.

so the bias runs deep. from the moment in 2013 when i first listened to bitch, don't kill my vibe and realised he'd perfectly encapsulated the idea of get your noise away from me, kendrick became a key figure for me. my entire adolescence was characterised by the releases of to pimp a butterfly and DAMN.

i was born and raised christian, but i only started to fully explore that after listening to faith.

i was born and raised in an egyptian household, but i only started to fully identify with what that means after complexion.

my highschool teacher once said to us that there will be no amount of growth in a time period unlike from your 18th to your 21st. and i can testify this. DAMN came out when i turned 18. mr morale and the big steppers came out after i finished being 21.

and, as always, kendrick knew what i needed. that a song about the lifelong affects of trauma and dealing with grief, with pain, with shame. i remember listening to mother i sober for the first time and bursting into tears on my bedroom floor because i never thought he would actually go where i needed him the most.

and now, we're here. that dr*ke is a pedophile. i won't censor that word, but i will censor his name. his artist name deserves no more respect. if anything, it should be that aubrey is a pedophile. and whilst these allegations still need to be proved to be true with evidence, i think it's worth noting something.

kendrick's suffered from the affects of abuse. why would he make light of it and throw them around so carelessly?

if anything, we've seen how nothing he does is careless. everything is so carefully thought out, so methodically thought out with even the most minute details being considered with the utmost deliberation.

aside from that, there's too much pain for that to be the case.

this could've been a good example of the sport. it's what it started out as. it's not worth going through all the subtle disses kendrick has dished out in his career. if anything, his pulitzer prize should be enough proof that a rap diss could remain as is; a rap diss.

but this wasn't a mere rap diss. this was mr morale in action and providing a real life example of the stories and themes he explores in his songs. the affects of unchecked corruption within the self. the affects of generational trauma and how the cycle continues - unless you stop and look in the mirror.

-- + -- + --

we should've known

how a son was finally shown

like the apple with the bruise

it's all coming loose

treat the world like your whore

only for it to reveal

your rotten core

(pls, seek him. heal.)

[wordsinhaled]

Edwin holding both of Charles' hands in his and telling him, "You cannot hurt me in any way that matters."

"I have been hurt beyond imagining and you have witnessed it firsthand, Charles. Do you remember it, as I remember it—clear as day? That was the worst agony imaginable. Unspeakable. Insurmountable. And you were wounded tenfold at the sight of it. You cannot hurt me in a way I will ever hold against you. And moreover you will not. No—don't look at me like that—I know you will not. Because you would sooner destroy yourself than cause me an iota of intentional pain. Your soul revolts against the thought of hurting me, does it not? Just as mine riots against the thought of you in pain. You saved me from hell—and Charles, you must not consign yourself to one of your own for fear of hurting me. Not when I am here to love you. Our love is not without risk, Charles, but it is a risk that is worth the reward."

[beanhusk]

the doctor took donna's memories as she cried and begged him not to. she would rather die than forget. still, he robbed her of agency. he played god and betrayed her trust.

here he finds himself, lifetimes later, caught between saving a city and keeping her alive. what she wants is to give her life and save her family, save millions. why does it have to be this?

he listens this time. without argument, he returns what she lost. he honours her choice. and if she dies while he holds her, she dies remembering. smiling. the doctordonna forever.

[webs-of-words]

to heal is to move on 🤍

sources: s. mcnutt | pinterest | pinterest | healing - fletcher | pinterest | perry poetry | happiness - taylor swift | pinterest | pinterest | pinterest

[caffeinatedattorney]

Bruce knew Harvey as the guy who went from zero to a hundred and viceversa. It scared their peers. Bruce understood it, to a degree.

It happened enough at school. Bruce would find his way into another fight, pay his dues after school, dread Alfred's scolding tone when he returned to his father's house... And one out of ten times Harvey Dent would join him in it after school.

"I can't keep going like this," Harvey muttered one day. He was watching the clock on the wall above the recently wiped board, now basked in the setting sun. His eyes were looking up, pleading at something in the ceiling. "This won't end well for me."

Bruce sat beside Harvey, laying his head down on his arms on his desk. Did Harvey really believe that? "What was it this time?"

Harvey blinks rapidly as he looks down at his desk. He turned a torn notebook page into smithereens with his fingers and only now seemed to notice.

Harvey looks devastated. "Some guy, not in our grade. He said... Weird things about us. He mocked you for your parents," he glances at the clock again. "I don't know what came over me, but, suddenly I was really close. He said I was nothing to you and I-I..." Harvey turns to Bruce, eyes disappointed in his own moral failing. "I beat him until he stopped moving. "

Bruce glances at the desk and finds the teacher, Mr maddox fast asleep, drooling on the lapels of his suit. Bruce uss the opportunity to get up and squeeze Harvey's shoulder, making Harvey flinch.

But, upon realizing Bruce isn't about to hit him, he smiles.

"Harvey," Bruce says. "You have to defend yourself sometimes. You gotta put the fear in them. Let them know you are not to be messed with."

Harvey shrinks on himself, thinking about it, his eyes look inward and he hums. "but, I don't want to hurt people... "

Bruce grabs Harvey's other shoulder and levels with him, harvey's eyes are so brown and trusting in a way Bruce can't get used to. He's not a role model, he doesn't think he can ever be, but he hates seeing Harvey doing this to himself. Bruce would've done the same.

"Sometimes you gotta. Your life or theirs."

Something clicks within harvey. It takes a second to process then he nods. "Okay," he says softly. "Thank you, Bruce."

Bruce smiles. "You are welcome."

Upon closer inspection, all Harvey has on him is a few cuts and a bruise under his eye. Maybe Bruce should call Leslie. Maybe what Harvey needs is a hug and a supportive family and Bruce is doing nothing here.

But something about Harvey makes Bruce feel 'supported' as Leslie would put it. Maybe Bruce does the same for Harvey sometimes? "You okay?" Bruce asks.

Harvey chuckles. A crooked grin is now cemented in his face despite the cuts. "Don't worry. I'll live."

[samw3000]

Word

Pour out PenI will lend you a handAs you gracefully drift across the pageA Pen in hand, we engage, uncagedPour out PenUntil your writing days end To writing, writers and all artists, regardless of your craft. Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash © 2024 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.

[motherlanguageday]

Participate to the 2nd MULTILINGUAL OPEN MIC NIGHT at the Manchester Poetry Library.

MANCHESTER POETRY LIBRARY IS DELIGHTED TO BE HOSTING ITS SECOND MULTILINGUAL OPEN MIC NIGHT TO CELEBRATE INTERNATIONAL MOTHER LANGUAGE DAY!

We welcome readings in any language. You can choose to read your own poems or a poem by a well-known poet (or not so well-known). If you’re still unsure, please just turn up and you can decide whether you want to read on the night. You might want to choose something spontaneously from our collection, or just stay and listen.

IMLD 2024: MULTILINGUAL OPEN MIC DATE: 22 February 2024 TIME: 6:00 pm to 7:45 pm AGES: All ages welcome PRICE: Free VENUE: Manchester Poetry Library Manchester Metropolitan University, Cavendish Street, Manchester, M15 3BG THEME: Languages; Poetry, Read ORGANISER: Manchester Poetry Library

Places to read will be allocated on a first-come, first-served basis. Refreshments will be provided. Please email Martin M.Kratz@mmu.ac.uk if you have any questions.

BOOK TICKETS