Poetry

Poetry

A place to share and discuss poetry

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We've noticed an influx of new casters here. As a gentle reminder, these are the norms of this channel. - Share your own poetry; mintable links are preferred, but feel free to share however you wish. - You can use AI to help you/collaborate with, but don't pass off low effort AI poetry as something genuine. We spot that, and hide it. - Share poetry by others and always credit the poet. Please. - Talk about poetry. - Enjoy poetry shared here. If the moderators don't know you, you might get checked through the bot-or-not action built by @sayangel. If you "cast like a bot", your posts will get hidden. Try to be a better caster, and come back. Repeat offenders will get banned eventually.

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RoMo🌈🎩 pfp

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Poet: Langston Hughes (1901-1967) American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist

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Hamed 🎩Ⓜ️🔥🥜

A woman may meet a man for his writing style, and perhaps soon she will suggest a different style to him But if a man loves a woman, he writes as he used to write, and if he loves poetry, he writes as he should write But if he loves both a woman and poetry, he knows twice as much as any other man what love is I know what love is, this poem wants to tell a woman Poet: [Charles Bukowski / America, 1920–1994]

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Activeboy 🎩 🔵

The spring is the purest song of the earth, gushing from the heart of stones, a mirror embracing the sky and giving life to rivers. It roars and dances, journeying from mountains to valleys, longing for the sea’s vast embrace, yet remains eternal in the heart of the mountain.

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Some words escape my lips, But read the truth within my eyes. Silence of speech is what i need to say, Yet storms rage whenever i say. Ask the temper to rest awhile, And like a child, it will melt away Like clouds dissolving into drops, Falling gently, to the rock.

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Hamed 🎩Ⓜ️🔥🥜 pfp

Hamed 🎩Ⓜ️🔥🥜

With every note of yours, resonating in the heart of the sky, I feel the past farther and farther But I feel the longing all around! Poet: [ Fernando Pessoa / Portugal, 1888-1935 ]

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Heenal Rajani (he/him)

gm frens! I'm new here. I practice "poetic harvesting" - writing & performing live or near-live poems inspired by conversations taking place around me. Here's a poem that I wrote & shared at #GFEL in February - this year was my first time at @ethdenver @ethdenver2025 :) It's an epic spoken word piece, so it's split over two files... I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!! cc @civilmonkey @omniharmonic @cstreet @borrowlucid.eth @owocki @cordurboi

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| wordstobepoetry |

@wordstobepoetry

🎙️Stacey Kent x Cully Jazz Festival 🔊 {| wordstobemusic | vol. IV} When it comes to the contemporary vocal jazz scene, Stacey Kent's voice defines a slice of the game. Her instrument weaves delicate harmonies in the most traditional art of the genre. She brings poetry to the dance with influences from bossa nova and French songs and moves her audience in various languages, such as Portuguese, French, and English. 🧵

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Somewhere in literary heaven, Shakespeare just leaned back in his celestial chair, put on his Elizabethan Ray-Bans and whispered, "Verily, they doth cook." 😂

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When you’re really building something that’s yours, the lines blur. No clocking in, no checking out—you just live it. You might lose the off days, but you gain purpose. And when purpose drives you, it don’t feel like work. It just feels like you.

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Unedited Poem  Unedited Poem. My heart sinks. I should have edited you I should have made you stronger, faster, better, more different, more polished, more professional, more better. But at the same time, CBF, it is what it is. I just cannot with this urgent, forcing, striving, holding, breathing, allowing. It is what it is… To be in this raw form is enough. And this too is precious End poem. Thank you.

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David T Phung ☢️⚡️🚀

clouds are nature’s poetry—fleeting verses written in vapor, drifting effortlessly across the sky.

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It Seems a Little Silly https://medium.com/write-under-the-moon/it-seems-a-little-silly-c9d3dc8ffe43?sk=1b100a5440237693bf9c873731f8b031

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An old silent pond— A frog jumps into the pond, Splash! Silence again. Haiku by: Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694) Japanese poet

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The New World by Stanisław Barańczak

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