#twcpoem

[inksoftly]

Broken Dreamer Under The Star

The heavy night departed,

The moment the sky parted.

The moon's rays peeked through,

The time has come I already knew.

A gentle wind blessed my face,

But the mind was a bird in cage.

Panic, anxiety, discomfort - what we say?

When the bird has fear of future,

More than the courage to fly away.

The world thinks she loves the home,

But no, she actually wants to roam.

With the laughter that was once gone,

Oh the innocence that was lost.

This bird is allergic to light,

But she will go to brighter sight.

Her destiny is still very far,

A broken dreamer under the star.

@inksoftly 🥀🍁

- to be continued

______________________________

[tomalbon]

Poem #106

Cepheid

We stand beneath it,

Counting in intervals.

Some of straw colour,

Some of ash, some of gold.

Feel the delay, the pause -

How space opens

Like a diaphragm.

Light always arrives late,

Repeated from memory:

The whirl of a dancer’s steps, unreachable.

Dream-skin, fringed with visions,

Roused with someone else’s eyes.

Lie next to me, even as a trick of the light.

I would make a perfume of your quietness,

Hands water-heavy with cherry, lilac, fuchsia -

But you, the distance, I can never possess,

Your heart of strobing places.

In knowing you, I know how far away I am

From everything else.

I pilot the shape of my body between the

Bright places of your afterimage.

Intervals. Unbridgeable gaps.

Unable to touch.

Still counting.

-

[jasminesuntrell]

National Poetry Writing Month 2026 - 14/30

[almaaspoetry]

“I was once loved,” said the dried flower.

“They placed me in vases, whispered how pretty I was.”

“Then they forgot me the moment I stopped blooming.”

The flower let out a sigh in despair.

“I was never loved,” said the weed.

“They pulled me out before I could even grow.”

“Too wild, too unwanted, too much.”

“Funny,” the flower whispered, “we both ended up here.”

“Discarded when we no longer served them.”

“We were either too much or not enough.”

“But when we were alive, we mattered, even if they didn’t see it.”

[poetryowl30]

The Gift

The greatest gift in life is the conversation

To talk to anyone even for just a little while

Is truly an extraordinary gift waiting to be given…

Whether it be for a minute, an hour, a day, a week

A year or an entire lifetime

From start to finish the words you share with another

Carry your soul to a more enlightened place of harmony…

When you share a conversation with another

You get at the very least a small but intimate chance

To see their hopes, their fears, their ambitions

And there anxieties,

They allow you to see the outer edges of their soul…

No matter where the conversation takes place

And no matter how messy the journey from sentence

To sentence is, 

The fragile balance of this space in time where you

Share life with another is so powerful as to make 

Your heart warm when all the feelings of the Earth

Are cold to their core…

And at the end when you are done sharing what 

Must be felt is the right amount to share,

Be it with a lover, a fighter, a friend, a family,

A sinner or a saint,

At the end this calm feeling rest over you and all

The mysterious questions of the universe subside

As you now carry with you the subtle and yet powerful

Knowledge gifted to you by your dance partner

In the art of conversation,

The calm rests in your heart and mine saying aloud

“I am not alone…

I am here,

And am not alone”

[matthew-pasquarello]

sheesh, i thought the hermit with his cock n balls swinging in winds of foul weather would be our savior, for he's scratching both those and his head watching plunderers work their way into modern itchy feelings at bases of necks.

y'know. where they hang from.

us saucy characters with lingerie pouring out of cardboard we don't remember deciding to hang onto.

[subtextures]

Cycle

I’m tired of this life,

but not tired enough to die.

The sun rises, then falls.

(August 15, 2025)

[kidgillis]

Elevators

I’ve never liked small spaces.

The constant ups and downs;

Being confined behind closed doors.

Waiting to arrive at destinations;

I’ve never been a fan of elevators.

Yet, here I am, patiently waiting;

Except this time,

I was intrigued by the ride.

Something changed when you stepped in

Before the doors closed;