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Upcoming Poetry Events

Open mics, poetry slams, book launches, workshops, festivals and more!
Hi everyone! Welcome to your fave monthly Uplift Poetry newsletter, featuring upcoming poetry events happening throughout Australia and online. Whether you’re looking to write, listen, or perform, there’s plenty of events to check out. Scroll down to view our list of open mics, poetry slams, book launches, workshops, festivals and more.
Uplift Poetry6 LIKES1 RESTACKS

Poetry of witness

Vellum and the archive of remembering
Dear friends,
Pádraig Ó Tuama236 LIKES26 RESTACKS
Jo Mosser's avatar
Jo Mosser
My sister is my oldest, closest friend—and right now they are recovering from an extensive, life-saving surgery. They are so on my heart in this moment that I think any prompt you offered, Pádraig, I would associate to them and my relationship with them. I can also see how my entire adult relationship with them is a kind of objection turned into art and language.
We have been collaborating together for sixteen years on art and writing. At the start, our art together was a loose experiment that was well received. As we kept at it, we confronted the way our childhood troubles shaped our relationship in ways that felt so bad. We grew up with the message that we had to be great. Attention was the currency, and it was fleeting. We had to try to catch it with our wit, talent, intelligence, or beauty. We had to compete. Our lives depended on this. We objected to this. We wanted our genius to be more mysterious than all that. We wanted to create because it was a joy and the soul’s necessity to do so. So we chose to center our artistic practice on the practice of loving each other better. We make calendars, so every year we revisit this intention. Protesting any occurrence that would leave us feeling splintered, we have faced so many interpersonal fires and have forged the most beautiful relationship
I feel the spirit of that protest now, too. We are deep in the process of making the calendar for 2027, even as the future feels so hard to see.
Dwight Lee Wolter's avatar
Dwight Lee Wolter
There was a hate crime murder of an undocumented 34 year old Latino man at the hands on seven local high school teenagers in Patchogue, Long Island in 2007. It took place while we were having a Peace Concert at my church a few blocks away. The murder was fable-ized by authorities who dismissed it as an aberration. A one-off. I presided at the funeral of Marcelo Lucero. It began two-year effort to face the truth and a fight to declare it a hate crime. At the Congregational Church of Patchogue, where I am pastor still, we hosted films, art exhibits, poetry readings, concerts, traditional Ecuadorean dance performances, and silence retreats. It was a national news story. My life was threatened many times (documented by police) because I “took their side” and was fanning the flames of a non-story. My own teenage son warned me not to eat at a restaurant on Main Street because I “would be eating spit.” We held an event where other victims (whose attacks were mislabeled by police to avoid scrutiny) were invited to tell their stories. I had an NPR reporter record their statements (names withheld). The hard drive was subpoenaed by the federal Justice Department and an investigation was opened. Over 100 police department violations and recommendations were in the final report. But now, almost 20 years later and after many positive changes occurred, ICE is back, Latinos are in hiding, Latino guests at our soup kitchen are down, and even attendance and artist participation at our upcoming Amazonian art exhibit and traditional dance performance is expected to be down. This, to me, is a sickening déjà vu. But I, and many others, will continue this struggle as long as I draw breath. Art, poetry, music, and dance helped keep the story real. The talking heads and make-it-look-better-than-it-is committees are trying and succeeding in many ways to deal with the past. But not so much to deal with the present and the future. I feel like we are going backward in many ways. The boards in the floor are warping. I feel I am sometimes sinking in quicksand. But stories like this, Padraig, lift me up and quicken my heart. It helps me to recommit. We remember. We lament. We change. We prevail. And now I finish my morning coffee and go to church where I will deliver a sermon on the Sower and the Seeds. May we cast our seeds on fertile soil. Peace When Possible, Dwight Lee Wolter

Classroom Series: the Sublime

Romantic Poetry & the Sublime
Dear read poetry friends,
read poetry19 LIKES3 RESTACKS
Neutral Yoga Daphne's avatar
Neutral Yoga Daphne
Claire, grounding the Romantic idea of the sublime in Tiffany Higgins' poem brings a poignant, modern urgency to this centuries-old concept. Connecting historical awe and terror to our present ecological reality shows just how vital poetry remains for processing overwhelming truths.

On Making Zines

Crafting Poetry Publications and Communities
Dear read poetry friends,
read poetry31 LIKES4 RESTACKS
Rainy Daze's avatar
Rainy Daze
I loved reading this Claire! As on elder-millennial, zines were such a touchstone of my youth and today, in my mid-forties, its something I come back to often! <3

Healing and hurt

And the objects that help
Dear friends,
Pádraig Ó Tuama308 LIKES33 RESTACKS
Deborah Smith's avatar
Deborah Smith
Tomorrow marks the milestone of 15 months since my husband died. Since then I have taken most of his clothes to the Good Will store, but cannot yet surrender one of his shirts. A year ago I wrote 3 haiku about 3 special objects that help me live with the hurt.
Though you are gone, the
sleeves of your wool shirt wrap your
arms around me still.
Only you know the
joy in the small wooden box
you made just for me.
Your eyes twinkle in
a picture from long ago.
I smile in return.
Terri Windling's avatar
Terri Windling
I've gone through a six year period in which I've lost two siblings and several close friends in a variety of sudden, traumatic ways (suicide, disease, heart failure, tragic accidents). My beloved dog (a springer/lab mix) was a steady support throughout it all, and then she died too. An artist friend made a necklace for me depicting my dog jumping over the moon: the necklace is silver, the moon is gold. Reeling from so much complex grief, I put the necklace on and have rarely taken it off again since. It represents all my lost loved ones, as well as my dog, symbolising how closely I carry them all with me as life goes on. I've heard it said that you don't really "heal" from grief; you learn to carry it more lightly. I carry my grief in silver and gold.

Poems on TOO MUCH.

The winning poem and shortlisted selection for JULY 2026 Poem of the Month Competition.
This article features the winning and shortlisted poems from July’s Poem of the Month.
VERVE Poetry9 LIKES3 RESTACKS

Loneliness and solidarity

Paradoxes and the past
Dear friends,
Pádraig Ó Tuama264 LIKES31 RESTACKS
Richard Sumpter's avatar
Richard Sumpter
I'm 88 and reside in a senior living facility. We used to have a small writing group that met weekly. The group no longer exists due to the demise of a couple of members. This place can foster and fester loneliness. (Side note: an oxymoron - certain death. Is there any other kindergarten?) But I digress. One of the group assignments was to write a song. We didn't have to write the music - just the lyrics. I have never been a devotee of the "country and western" genre, but I thought I'd try it to vocalize my loneliness since my wife of 52 years had died. Here it is.
Regrets
I loved you best I could,
but it’s not the way I would
if I had a chance
to do it all again.
Didn’t love you as I wanted
so I’m feeling somewhat haunted
since you went away
Before I knew the truth.
You always gave your whole self,
and I held back my true self –
giving only pieces -
not fully being yours.
I should have been more honest
even though it seemed the hardest
thing I ever had to do.
Truth was harder than a lie
since I thought I couldn’t satisfy
the wrong-held, long held version
of who I had to be.
So wrong I was in judging you
who never did judge me;
just loved with full acceptance
the me I let you see.
Now that I’m alone
I’m looking for a phone
with bars enough to reach the ever after.
November 29, 2025
Nancy Shebeneck's avatar
Nancy Shebeneck
We are in a pandemic of loneliness.
Now there’s a paradox! Widespread loneliness!
Or is that an oxymoron?!
In the past we lived in tribes.
Maybe they were on to something, then.
Wouldn’t you rather be annoyed
in the cacophony of community
than feel the echoing pangs of lonliness?
How is it that social media
has only made us more isolated?
Words on a page without punctuation,
a face in a space on a box…
I miss the smell of the peanut butter sandwich that you ate for lunch.
I miss the feel of your fuzzy sweater with a hug.
Oh, to have a tribe of wisdom to
make an offering when feeling lost.
Oh, to have sweet tiny teeth and big brown eyes
smile up at you on a gloomy day.
Step out. Reach out.
Matter matters as “they” say.
Take a chance on human humus.
Presence is powerful and can
ease your empty pangs.

Conversations of the Heart

Your weekly Mary Oliver poem and writing prompt.
Welcome to Dream Work: A Year-Long Writing Journey with Mary Oliver
Poetry Outdoors42 LIKES2 RESTACKS
Struck By Grace's avatar
Struck By Grace
When Did It Happen?
Mother debbi rhodes, written after Mary Oliver
When did it happen?
At midnight, the Great Vigil of Easter, when I was claimed as Christ’s own.
Where did it happen?
In a small parish in New Jersey.
No, tell. Where did it happen?
In the manger of my soul, a place glorified by the presence of God.
What is your heart doing now?
Rejoicing with gratitude for my eternal beloved belonging.
Michelle DiSarno's avatar
Michelle DiSarno
When did it happen?
When I unclenched my fist and laid down my armor.
Where did it happen?
On the bench in front of the monastery
where the grass was still damp from dew.
No, tell me. Where did it happen?
In spirit and space-time.
What is your heart doing now?
Knowing itself.

To Be Wild & Perfect for a Moment

Your weekly Mary Oliver poem and writing prompt.
Welcome to Dream Work: A Year-Long Writing Journey with Mary Oliver
Poetry Outdoors68 LIKES10 RESTACKS
sarah jayne's avatar
sarah jayne
Peony Buds—Keeper of Secrets
~one hundred tightly compressed
promises of colour, texture, and fragrance
~packed into a single green sepal—
intact, flawless and safe
~until
late May, early June
~when I bloom
and spill the honey tea
~to the ants
that already knew,
whispering at the gates,
~and the heavy honey bees
drunk on the sudden confession
~a dancer holding her breath
poised for the slow, fluid developpe
that will alter her world forever
Joanne's avatar
Joanne
This morning the hollyhocks
Stood at overflowing attention
Fluffy double white blooms
Looking like a bridal party
Full of love
This evening, four tall stems, gone
Gnawed off at the flowers
Like a knife to my full of beauty heart.
Who could do such a thing!
I am later told, squirrels
And for once I am almost grateful
Humans would be too much to abide
The remaining blooms
Smile, shine on
Married to each day
And happy

Deep Dive into Medieval Poetry

Romance, Religion, and Legends
Dear read poetry friends,
read poetry39 LIKES4 RESTACKS
David Brayley's avatar
David Brayley
Hello Claire, fellow spirit!
I studied medieval poetry in university, many years ago. I was a rebellious student, and didn’t read all I was assigned - including Beowulf, Chaucer, Gawain, not to mention Dante. Notwithstanding my truancy, a lifelong love of long-form poetry was engendered (to borrow a word from Chaucer).
Unhappy with my youthful negligence, I resolved to finish my education on my own time, and I've been working on that project for over 50 years. My favourite translation of Beowulf is a recent one by Maria Dahvana Headley, a daring colloquial take that not all critics like, but which I think is brilliant. In a more academic register, I recommend Dorothy Sayers's translations of Dante. Her notes are indispensable.
At the moment I'm listening to an audiobook of The Faerie Queene - not medieval, I know, but as neglected as many other undergraduate assignments. David Timson's reading is hypnotic, makes me think we need to revive the ancient practice of epic recitation. What do you think?
The Wizard's avatar
The Wizard
There is nothing shameful about being moved by old books. A sentence written two centuries ago can still find the hidden room in the heart and open the window.

Circles of Solitude

Poetry by Trisha Leigh Shufelt
I hadn’t planned on releasing a poem today. But the news of Glen Hansard’s death broke something in me. I cannot express how much I love/loved this man. I know I’m not the only one. His music has inf…
The Poetry Moth15 LIKES4 RESTACKS
Gary L Taylor's avatar
Gary L Taylor
Lovely words for the man. It is truly a great loss.
N.D. Stone's avatar
N.D. Stone
A perfect, heartfelt tribute.

The Net That Holds the Sky

A curation of poems on interbeing written by the Poetry Outdoors community
Dear Friends,
Poetry Outdoors, Abbie Shanahan, and 4 others26 LIKES1 RESTACKS
Natasha Price's avatar
Natasha Price
Find me the web of life……..and I will show you suffering
I will show you ecstasy
And I will show you love
Hit me like a Mary Oliver poem.Sharp…….. cutting to the marrow.Completely broken open. Some of us sit and wait for those perfect lines for a long long time.
I’d love to know where they come from. It’s like what must happen to touch that sort of wealth with words💫💫💫
The Sawyer's Daughter's avatar
The Sawyer's Daughter
K.H. -- love this:
The net which binds
is the same that cradles.

Maternal Instinct

A poem about surprising discoveries.
Ever since I watched The Island of The Sea Wolves documentary series, I can’t
Poetry Outdoors32 LIKES1 RESTACKS
Mariana Jimenez's avatar
Mariana Jimenez
I need to watch this documentary as well. And your take on this is absolutely stunning
Poetry Tracks In the Snow's avatar
Poetry Tracks In the Snow
Oh Ash, the story and your poem are amazing. I need to watch this documentary!

Midway through life’s journey

and all the things it brings
Dear friends,
Pádraig Ó Tuama289 LIKES28 RESTACKS
Lisa Marie Simmons's avatar
Lisa Marie Simmons
Good morning, dear friends, and Pádraig, what a lovely gift to arrive at this prompt on a Sunday morning, wren song and all. I am slow to wake this morning after a weekend of gigs. Last night, a sunset concert with my old band, Hippie Tendencies, with whom I haven't sung in quite some time. Revisiting the songs I wrote just after that midlife point led to the most luminous evening (I’ll leave a photo in my notes) and had us all questioning why we aren't still writing together. The answer is artistic evolution, each of us reaching, but perhaps it is time for a revisit.
I just turned 60 in May, so by these measures, midlife would have been 30. I had just moved to Italy following a man who was not good for me. I didn’t yet speak the language, and I was floundering, trying to decide what direction my creative path would take. It was a moment of reckoning with a difficult childhood and the slow, terrible recognition that I was recreating the same stifling atmosphere I had grown up in.
It took a few more years, but the epiphany came when my brother visited and said that next time he would stay in a hotel because he could not bear to watch how I was being treated. That same night, I understood: any home where my favorite person on the planet cannot stay is no home I want to build. bell hooks had already been whispering this to me. "All too often women believe it is a sign of commitment, an expression of love, to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget. In actuality, when we love rightly we know that the healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse is putting ourselves out of harm's way." I left.
My companions in that period were mostly musical, as I was building a band. Ani DiFranco, in particular, was instrumental in the steady expansion of my own badassness. (One of the few covers we played last night was her "Buildings and Bridges”!!) And it was in that same period that I discovered bell hooks, whose Bone Black: Memories of Girlhood expanded my everything and handed me back a sense of self. She wrote, "To be truly visionary we have to root our imagination in our concrete reality while simultaneously imagining possibilities beyond that reality." That sentence became a compass.
I am still building on what she gave me. I look forward to reading you all, though I may be slow this week, still feeling the beautiful work of the last three nights.
Lyn Taylor Hale's avatar
Lyn Taylor Hale
When I think of the middle of my life-to-date, I tend to revisit the great tearing asunder the occurred when my faith and marriage fell apart in tandem, which happened in my 40's. I am 63. So this prompt leads me to my early 30's. I love this. What "happened" to me in that half decade was my children. I finished having the four of them. They were my constant companions in every literal way. In every place I was, they were there. I have lately been feeling some envy towards my friends, also in their 60's, whose life work has amassed into things rather substantial. A body of work. A giant life savings. Recognition. Acclaim. On a long drive down the Eastern seaboard a few weeks ago I was pondering this. Pondering the "generativity v. stagnation" of my own life. Padraig made the off-hand comment at Omega that "no one will read us after we are dead" (by which I was terribly offended). Maybe not. But in my children, in their children, in their physical attributes, the tone of their voices, their sense of humor, their dreams, their integrity, the folks they touch...I do get to endure. My bank account is by no means bulging. No one is heralding me for anything more than a kind word or deed. And I am deeply loved. And I love oh-so-deeply. And this is all brought to you by what "happened" to me in mid-life. Thanks, Padraig.

Poetry Prompts—July 2026

Part of the purpose of Rabbit Room Poetry is to not only nourish your creativity with excellent featured work but also give you actionable steps for moving forward with your own poetic projects. At the beginning of every month, we share a roundup of poetry prompts created by our Director of Content, Andy Patton, to whet your imagination and launch you i…
The Rabbit Room46 LIKES5 RESTACKS
Terry Todd's avatar
Terry Todd
Jonah’s Dialogue
“I have a job for you.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“It’s just what you should do.”
“I think I would fear it.”
“I want to send you east.”
“There’s nothing there for me.”
“You imagine fearsome beasts?”
“Father, just leave me be!”
“That city will repent.”
“I long to see a beach.”
“Their hearts are sorely bent.”
“I am not fit to preach.”
“You will regret this choice.”
“I want to go out west.”
“The sailors won’t rejoice.”
“I think I know what’s best.”
“The sea can get quite rough.”
“There’s something fishy here…”
“You really all that tough?”
“My stomach’s feeling queer.”
“Shall I condemn these sailors?”
“No, I’m the one who’s bent.”
Acknowledge human failure?”
“Yes, Lord, I do repent.”
“You need to take a break.”
“Inside a monster fish?”
“It is for your own sake.”
“Won’t you grant me one wish?
“Father, I want to live!”
“I promise that you will.”
“I want praises to give!”
“Jonah, I mean no ill.
“Ready to travel east?”
“I will try not to cry.”
“They are not wicked beasts.”
“Is that where I will die?”
“Tell them they must turn back.”
“If You say so, I’ll do it.”
“Or else their future’s black.”
“But somehow I intuit,
“That if they hear me well,”
“Yes, go ahead, say it.”
“You won’t send them to hell.”
“Even donkeys bray it!
“I am a loving God.
Lots of children know me.
Why would you think it odd,
That these ones also owe me,
“Gratitude, obedience?
You need not be so mad
That I offer presence.
Sit with me and be glad,
“My mercy is so great,
The children gather round.
This hill on which we sit,
Is also holy ground.”
July 21, 2026
David Franklin Braun Jr.'s avatar
David Franklin Braun Jr.
The Computer,
A frigate,
Guns at ready,
Unfurls it sails.
The Keyboard,
The crew.
At attention,
Ready for my commands.
The Task,
Answer every stupid question
That the company asks.
Each question a shot from an enemy ship
To which my crew returns their fire.
The Clock,
Is wind in the sails
That brings me to five.
Where peaceful waters live
And the cannon shots die.
The Emails,
Relentless is their barrage
From angry resignations,
Requests for raises to accesses needed.
Each shot hitting the hull
And putting holes in sails.
The Coffee,
Friend and first mate.
Who always holds me together
When the hours get late.
The Effort,
The name of this ship
Feels vain for tomorrow
I do it all again.
For each shot that I land,
The enemies takes three.
Each slows the ship and wind
That carries day.
My Name?
Captain Sisyphus,
Captain of the Effort.
And I will go down with the ship.

YES POETRY YES

ДА ПОЭЗИЯ ДА
Yes, there will be a Zoom poetry reading and discussion this Saturday. Click on the link below at the appointed time to join the reading.
Bruce Isaacson3 LIKES1 RESTACKS

Freebie Friday

A moody little offering
The last day of July is a mood; I can’t believe we only have one more month of summer—heat on my back, walking in the hot sun, the lake shimmering like this dazzling piece of polymer on my finger… as if the heat radiating from my hand holds some secret window into my soul. I doubt it. But I still peer down, beads of sweat dripping down my nose as I scru…
Of Trees & Poetry, Julia McMullen, and E R Skulmoski12 LIKES3 RESTACKS
Teresa Harden's avatar
Teresa Harden
Rejoice and Keep Smiling
Rejoice and Keep a Smile
On Your Face
Some things are out
Of our control
But we still have
The Lord’s Grace
Gratitude
Is our mood
Joy in Abundance
The Joy of the Lord
Is My Strength
Your Salvation
Built
Within
Thank You
Jesus
For All You’ve Done
For All Victories
Already Won
Rejoice and Keep Smiling
While moving on
To the next Test
Looking up to the
Son (sun)
Pray Without Ceasing
Keeping my Mind
Stayed On Thee
Perfect Peace
Lord I Rejoice
And Keep Smiling
Even though it’s difficult
I know We have Won
You Died on the Cross
Resurrected on the 3rd Day
You Left Us with
All Power
Because Holy Ghost
Lives in Me!!! Or Lives Within
Rejoice And Keep Smiling
Written By Teresa Denise Harden
Silvia Vega's avatar
Silvia Vega
Love it.. rejoice and keep smiling.
I will


The Heartstring That Tugs - (Poem) Voiceover

Romance and nostalgia collaborative poem
Photo: Pinterest
Ethereal Twilight Poetry and the stranger76 LIKES26 RESTACKS
Rev. Kevin T. Taylor's avatar
Rev. Kevin T. Taylor
Ethereal Twilight Poetry and the stranger, “nostalgia for something yet to be lost” gives the collaboration its governing emotional paradox. Love bends time, air, memory, and place around two people who remain together while already grieving the fragile instant called “us.” The cathedral sequence deepens that ache by making the lovers both witnesses to and creators of a sacred present that refuses to stay still. Thank you for giving longing a future tense and letting memory begin while love is still unfolding.
AËLA's avatar
AËLA
They were still together.
They were mourning each other anyway.
That is the grief
no one names —
the loss of a version of love
that existed
before the world
reminded it
to be ordinary.
— AËLA


Amsterdam

Erotic Poetry
The chill of the canal house fades, you lean me against a heavy oak door locked in place the night shadows dance amber-tinted greys richochet not quite a thousand shades almost this Amsterdam air is so liberal. and you deliberately tease lift my chin with light fingers the moisture in the canal air lingers you lick my lips as if to taste my …
Vianne Armour37 LIKES10 RESTACKS
Jeanne Vessantra's avatar
Jeanne Vessantra
Enchanting. I really loved the way this felt - both classical and quietly, almost feverishly, erotic. I'm especially drawn to this kind of elegant sensuality, and the Amsterdam setting only deepened that atmosphere. What I enjoyed most was the tension: the constant interplay between what is revealed and what remains unspoken. Thank you for writing.
Eliza Davey's avatar
Eliza Davey
This is great! Lovely build up just like the couple in the poem experiencing a high👏🏼🔥

Let Emily Wilson Tell You About a Complicated Man

On The Odyssey, translation in all it's forms, glory, andwhat to look up before you see the movie
As fans scoured the internet for IMAX tickets to Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey, we invited the translator EMILY WILSON to discuss Homer’s infamous epic with the writer Sarah Ruhl. Emily is the rare contemporary translator who needs no introduction. She was the first woman to translate
92NY Poetry & Literature19 LIKES6 RESTACKS

Summer Camp and Daughter Nearly Grown

Pantoum on Aerial Silks (originally appeared in the Comstock Review) Worn by a body so callow and artful, the silks lie still. Their spiraling so tissue-like, tearful, windswept, hammocking my child as her muscles will them into submission. Summer’s gone unchecked. Their spiraling so tissue-like, tearful, windswept, she knots, climbs, drops, s…
Poetry Firesale8 LIKES
Kelley Holmes's avatar
Kelley Holmes
Oh Alisha.

Lit Bodies OPEN for Poetry Submissions

A focused collection of literary journals and literary magazines open for submissions of poetry throughout the year.
Charlotte5 LIKES2 RESTACKS
Abigail's avatar
Abigail
Wow! What a list. I'd love to try to go through them all, but it seems a bit daunting. I'll give it a try, wish me luck!
alleyboy's avatar
alleyboy
It came in waves not the waves of the tides but the waves of the lost
It came in blood not the blood of your kin
but the blood of the streets
It came in the morning not the morning of the dawn but the mourning of the dead
It came without reason
Without hope without truth.Then it lingered in the air like the awful feeling that the night sometimes brings.

Poetry Prompt of the Week: The Poem As Character in the Poem

In this contemplative prompt, bring the act of reading the poem into the poem and see how you can use this to connect with the reader in surprising ways.
Tuesday is the 99th birthday of John Ashbery, who died in 2017 but until then was regarded for decades, at least in American literature, as the “most influential living poet,” a testament to his preeminence, which held so long it became something of a
Robert Wood Lynn6 LIKES