Latest Poetry Articles

Jan 21

160+ Upcoming Poetry Events

Open mics, poetry slams, book launches, workshops, festivals and more!

This week’s newsletter features 160+ upcoming poetry events. Whether you’re looking to write, listen, or perform, there’s plenty to discover. Check out these open mics, poetry slams, book launches, workshops, festivals and more happening throughout Australia and online.

Uplift Poetry ∙ 24 LIKES ∙ 4 RESTACKS

ElizabethWalton.au

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Thanks @Uplift Poetry i followed one of your leads recently and was highly commended in a poetry prize.

The Quiet Hour Poet

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Jan 23

Thank you thank you thank you!

From Vic, I will look into these 🙏

read poetry

Jan 6

January Poetry Recommendations & Reading Goals

Poetry picks to start your New Year off right

Dear read poetry friends,

read poetry ∙ 154 LIKES ∙ 13 RESTACKS

sea breeze

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Jan 7

this is just what i've been looking for! just read the sun and her flowers by rupi kaur. the more poetry i read, the more poetry i write.

Return to Poetry

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Jan 14

Excellent recommendations. Call it a dearth or marketing, but I always struggle to find new and exciting collections. Thanks!

Poetry Unbound

Jan 11

"how often and how well"

poetry of life and death

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 386 LIKES ∙ 40 RESTACKS

Diane

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Jan 11

I live in Minneapolis. It is hard to find words to describe what it is like living here at this moment. I have thought often that I've now joined a long line of humanity that has lived under a violent, fascist regime. So much of what happened to Renee Good haunts me. Including that Renee and her wife Becca moved here for safety, for belonging. I see so much courage all around me. The rapid responders, the mutual aid, the noisemakers outside the hotel of the ICE agents, the businesses that refuse to serve ICE, the pastor who told ICE to "take me instead" saying he was not afraid and when they did he refused to bow to their demand to say he was afraid, the protesters who show up on street corners and bridges, or to march on icy streets, the Somoli immigrants who bring tea and sambusas to the protesters. Courage is alive in this beautiful, hurting city. It will be a balm to attend your event here on Friday....

Lyn Taylor Hale

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Jan 11

Courage, resistance, truth, and deep, deep love were my supervisor-turned-business-partner-turned-most intimate friend. Stan died unexpectedly in June. I got 17 years with him. How often and how well ovum and sperm came together in him. I did not know him during my years in the church but while I was very busy being close-minded, judgmental, and frightened of everything, Stan was across town, a deacon in his own church, acknowledging whatever life handed him, holding people in his blue-eyed gaze and encouraging them every time he was able, and suing the state of VT for the right to marry his beloved husband. The balm of his life poured out everywhere, and it found me in my lostness and just kept repeating in dozens of ways, "you are okay. you are lovely. you are loved." I would still really rather not live in a world without him, what died there was unspeakable grace and forgiveness. I spend every day trying to live forward his life. You are okay. You are lovely. You are loved.

Poetry Unbound

Jan 4

A New Year; A New Pantoum

Lines of place and sound and thinking

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 396 LIKES ∙ 44 RESTACKS

Michael T Smith

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Jan 4

On a hillside, in a home shaped by these hands

Coyotes call and the wind rattles tin

The dog’s soft snore, air moving through ducts

Moonlight slips through parted blinds

Coyotes call and the wind rattles tin

Her body turns slowly in dream, my son’s floors creak

Moonlight slips through parted blinds

Time is like a slingshot between wakings

Her body turns slowly in dream, my son’s floors creak

My heart knocks, twisted back

Time is like a slingshot between wakings

Will I live it right?

My heart knocks, twisted back

The dog’s soft snore, air moving through ducts

Will I live it right

On a hillside, in a home shaped by these hands?

David Brickey Bloomer

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Jan 4

I’m ashamed, living in Singapore, that I don’t even know this form. I try to make up for that:

oh, peace prize.

of blood, money, power & oil.

laurels laid on quiet graves.

a medal rinsed in sanctioned fire.

of blood, money, power & oil.

they call it history, shaking hands.

a medal rinsed in sanctioned fire.

the cameras blink, the ledgers smile.

they call it history, shaking hands.

children count the nights by drones.

the cameras blink, the ledgers smile.

silence learns its accolades.

children count the nights by drones.

laurels laid on quiet graves.

silence learns its accolades.

oh, peace prize.

Poetry Unbound

Jan 25

Changing your mind about words

And words changing your mind

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 329 LIKES ∙ 36 RESTACKS

PSM

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Outrage

Outrageous

Rage

Heart

Heartbroken

Broken hearted

Broken

Paula from St Paul, Minnesota

Gyda Meeten

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"Delight" is in my heart a lot just now. I grew up in a faith tradition with a deep suspicion of things that might be too lovely. A sense that beauty and art are secondary to struggle and perfectionism. I'm shedding that piece by piece, and relearning (I hope!) how to feel delight and joy in the everyday.

Poetry Outdoors

Jan 18

Some Questions You Might Ask

Your weekly Mary Oliver poem and writing prompt.

Dreamwork: A Year-Long Journey with Mary Oliver

Poetry Outdoors ∙ 28 LIKES ∙ 2 RESTACKS

Joe

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My poem had some questions about me and my place in society:

I wonder if I lost

A part of myself

A long time ago?

Is it true

How you do one thing

Is how you do everything?

I find more in common

With the pine tree

Standing vigilant,

The green heron

At the edge of the pond,

The coyote in the woods,

Than with the people

Who walk past me,

Who bustle about

In their busyness,

As if time were unlimited

And the night

Didn’t whisper our names

Laura Coleman

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Thank you for these inspiring prompts, Here is my response:

Some questions I might ask, like

Where did I come from and where will

I go? Will I feel like the sunrise, breaking

free of the night, as though all the light

inside me can finally color the sky?

Or might I feel like the solitary raindrop

free falling from the heavens to merge

with the rushing river, who will carry me

in a flow of grace all the way back to the

infinite sea of source?

I wonder if I will finally feel inside the moss

and the birdsong? What a lovely thing to be

limitless like this, to kiss each living thing

with the light of my being. I would like to rest

there awhile, and be at peace with everything

that once seemed separate, but now is

truly a part of me.

Poetry Unbound

Jan 18

The nature of nature writing

What is revealed

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 334 LIKES ∙ 36 RESTACKS

Caitriana NicNeacail

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Jan 18

I think what I love about nature writing is attention, and the invitation to the reader to pay attention too. To attend, to wait, to see and hear and smell what we all too easily miss. And, as you say, to see how we are a part of it too. I think of how Robert Macfarlane’s writing does this, and Helen Macdonald’s (H is for Hawk), but I think my favourite nature poetry is Gerard Manley Hopkins’:

Glory be to God for dappled things—

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise Him.

Steve Nolan

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Jan 18

POEM ON AGING

Children are pulled from the rubble

that used to be their home. Soldiers shiver

in a trench in the dead of winter not knowing

when the next artillery barrage begins.

You realize how lucky your life has been,

despite cancer, divorce, the fog of war.

You consumed so many novels, movies,

philosophers, pundits and prophets, but

you are still trying to answer the question

of who you are -- aging and illness

teaching you that we possess nothing,

nothing is permanent. Even the self,

you thought belonged to this package

that is dying, demands a type of freedom.

You still dream, you still love, you still

take long walks in nature

discovering other pilgrims. A mockingbird

balances on a branch, repeats everything

it can mimic, as do I — we

look at each other, perhaps

only one of us wondering who we are.

Poetry Unbound

10:34 AM

“From Minneapolis in January”

A new poem by Michael Bazzett

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 126 LIKES ∙ 21 RESTACKS

Emilia

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As a Minneapolitan abroad, I am losing my mind, and I am so grateful (yes, somehow, grateful) for the artful writers who draw me in to the nightmare most of my beloveds are waking to every morning. Thank you, Michael.

These letters, from other local poets and writers, are also beautiful and evocative and important. They echo one another and this poem in eerie and convicting ways: https://lithub.com/tag/letter-from-minnesota/

Bo Vanluchene in Londen

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Beautiful poem. I wish it had never needed to be written.

Poetry Outdoors

Jan 25

I Want My Life to Close and Open like a Wing

Your weekly Mary Oliver poem and writing prompt.

Dreamwork: A Year-Long Journey with Mary Oliver

Poetry Outdoors ∙ 17 LIKES ∙ 1 RESTACKS

Abbie Shanahan

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Here is my poem inspired by Dogfish: https://abbieshanahan.substack.com/p/bird-talk

Laura Coleman

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Here is my poem inspired by Mary Oliver's Dogfish. Thanks for sharing Ash and for your beautiful poem.

https://open.substack.com/pub/fairiesandgnomes/p/you-belong-to-the-wild?utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=web

Poetry Culture

Jan 21

Contemporary Time Travel: A Guide

A travel guide to a vanishing, and emerging, world

You wake up, walk to a cafe, and buy a newspaper and a coffee. You pull out cash, pay for the items, and receive coins as change. You walk across the street to the post office, where you send a letter to your uncle, wishing him a happy birthday. You wave to a taxi, which takes you to a friend’s house.

Poetry Culture ∙ 9 LIKES ∙ 2 RESTACKS

Soulhunting

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Jan 23

Oh simpler times! Really enjoyed the read and old pictures!

Diana Of The Dreamt

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Jan 22

Oh ✨🌹 Time.. add to: subjects I could talk about forever. So fascinating and interesting to reflect on! a time capsule here in and of itself. Letters being made obsolete.. I refuse and will deliver them myself if I must or befriend pigeons to keep letters alive. Btw, your article ought to have been accepted by your playlist alone, it was 🤌🏼👩‍🍳✨

Poetry, YES!

Jan 29

Yes! Oh, Poetry, Yes!

Jan. 31, 2026

Yes, there will be a Zoom poetry reading and discussion this Saturday. Click on the underlined link below at the appointed time to join the reading.

Bruce Isaacson ∙ 7 LIKES ∙ 1 RESTACKS

A. Razor

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Eli is always in my heart…

Prairie’s Poetry

Jan 28

The Grief

What gives us humanity and power

The good grief The tear-stained notebook grief The hell yes grief The buried grief The let’s-digest-pain-instead-of pizza-grief The I-don’t-know-who-I’ll-be-on-the-other-side-of-this-grief… grief. My grief. Your grief. Our grief. Ugly grief. Sweet grief. Beautiful grief. Get as small as you can Until you can’t st…

Prairie's Poetry ∙ 30 LIKES ∙ 4 RESTACKS

theresa 💌

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this is so insanely important & powerful at this exact point in time, thank you!!

Azure Jo Storm

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The overwhelming power of grief is so greatly expressed in this poem. "That the sun can fit

Into your palm And you spit fire." Yes absolutely!

Of Trees & Poetry

Jan 30

Friday & Favourites Vol. 54

Under the rubble of babble

Lately, poetry has been distancing itself from me. My (Emily) mind has been busy with other important, but non-poetry-related things. To find my way back, it is sometimes helpful to go back to the why. To the primordial place where language started to take shape and bloom in the landscape of my mind. So today, I am going to talk about how language shape…

E R Skulmoski, Julia McMullen, and Of Trees & Poetry ∙ 16 LIKES ∙ 3 RESTACKS

Victoria Cardona

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I love how you traced your journey through language...from your mom’s voice to Cantopop to Roget’s Thesaurus. It feels so intimate and real. I especially connected with the idea that words can drift away, but there are always little signs guiding us back. Thank you for sharing this, as it reminds me why I fell in love with poetry language in the first place.

Noor

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Well written, would love to connect!😀

Sheetghost Poetry

Jan 25

Poetry Prompt of the Week: Unexpected Association

In this contemplative prompt, tie two unalike things inextricably together and convince your reader of their belonging.

Everyone I know up and down the east coast is bunkered down for a whopper of a snowstorm that’s imminently arriving. Snow always reminds me of this Mary Ruefle poem, one of my favorites of all time (a handwritten copy by Ruefle is one of my most prized possessions). You’ll see why:

Robert Wood Lynn ∙ 9 LIKES

small victories

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I think I might have a go at this!

Of Trees & Poetry

Jan 23

Craft & Play Vol. 35

winter haiku

Dear friends,

Of Trees & Poetry, Julia McMullen, and E R Skulmoski ∙ 75 LIKES ∙ 3 RESTACKS

Rebecca J. Gomez

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Window glazed with ice

Like brush strokes made with feathers

Winter’s masterpiece

MellenEve

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The trees have no leaves

Stripped from my cold, naked limbs

Buried here till spring

Rabbit Room Poetry

Jan 20

Join Us for Poetry Hours

Every Friday at noon, we open our digital doors to invite poets to come write poetry together on Zoom for one hour. You are invited!

The Rabbit Room ∙ 25 LIKES ∙ 8 RESTACKS

The AI Architect

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Jan 20

There's something beautifully subversive about carving out weekly space for poetry in a world that prizes productivity metrics over creative exploration. The practice of gathering specifically to write - not to workshop, not to perform, but simply to create alongside others - honors the communal nature of art that we've lost in our increasingly isolated digital existence. Writing can feel solitary, but the ancients knew better: poets gathered in symposiums, storytellers around fires, scribes in scriptoriums. This modern iteration via Zoom is its own kind of fellowship, proving that physical distance doesn't have to mean creative isolation. Every Friday at noon becomes a small rebellion against the tyranny of the urgent.

Andrea 🌄

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This sounds cool! Unfortunately it’s smack in the middle of my workday but hopefully I can make it sometime!

10 poetry notebooks

Jan 29

Pen & Page Prompt #19

This Week: Using routine as a doorway into meaning

10 poetry notebooks ∙ 11 LIKES

teatablepoet

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Is it fine if I post my response on my page this time. I feel this one has matched the theme of my latest poems

10 poetry notebooks

Jan 23

Pen & Page Prompt #18

This Week: The Body Remembers

10 poetry notebooks ∙ 18 LIKES ∙ 2 RESTACKS

teatablepoet

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Tension and regression

make visible impressions

Call me towards tragedy

of what awaits inside of me

the fleeting thought- what all would be

Lay bearing more eternity

as they smash a rash on the brick wall

bounce back towards-no place- at all

And now- Un-blurred my vision's reach \

clear words on page? Not all I see.

and I count on eternity

Something of me to simply be

it should not take effort, to simply be

Tina Rogers

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Jan 23

Another great prompt. How do you do it?!

They Say Poetry is Dead...

Jan 23

Snowmageddon Poetry Pop-Up!

Pop-up session on Sunday & other ways to stay busy while you're snowed in this weekend

Hello writers,

Joan Kwon Glass ∙ 10 LIKES ∙ 5 RESTACKS

Emma Goldman-Sherman

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Jan 23

I wish I could join you for the snowed-in pop up, but I am already booked (to zoom - won't be going anywhere irl).

The Poetry Zoo

Jan 30

CHAPTER 35: THREE MICE -- BLIND OR SIGHTED? THE JURY IS BEING SEATED

(The Poetry Zoo by Sam Staggs)

Star is rats spelled backward. — Darryl Zanuck

Sam Staggs ∙ 1 LIKES

Literary Feast: Poetry and Prose

Jan 30

Prepare a Table: Hospitable Poetry for Everyone

Introducing a series on poetry for the people

Poetry is a way of using language that draws us into participation. Poetry is language used with personal intensity. It is not, as so many suppose, decorative speech. Poets tell us what our eyes, blurred with too much gawking, and our ears, dulled with too much chatter, miss around and within us. Poet…

Abigail ∙ 40 LIKES ∙ 15 RESTACKS

Kayla Norris

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I love this!!!

Clara York Writes

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How exciting!!

10 poetry notebooks

Jan 8

Pen & Page Prompt #17

This Week: Writing From the Quiet Aftermath — Letting an Object Tell the Story

10 poetry notebooks ∙ 10 LIKES ∙ 2 RESTACKS

Nora O’Dowd

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Jan 14

Hi, so new to this.

Tattered blanket curls in gentle waves

unbroken, trembling toward release

still warm, still cradling

one so lately there

Sand castle definition ebbs

at tidal command

the green woolen blanket

is pulled away and

smoothed into practical folds

ready to embrace

another body and soul

anxious for its warmth

For a moment, it remembers

the twists and turns,

the midnight prayers

of one so lately there

J. Zheng

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Jan 9

First, the spiked air of clary sage,

then the slow melt into mint

and the sharp sweetness of star anise.

Soon a field of lavender rises,

and in its haze, cedars lift,

tall as your shadow.

The bottle warms in my palm.

Hours drift. Lavenders fade.

Now the air is dusted with tonka,

soft as memory turned to powder.

And I inhale nothing.

My breath is thick with absence.

Please, let me forget.

Let this scent carry away

whom I refuse to name.

Messy Ink Poetry

Jan 25

Fine Line

thin as breath heavy as choice

made from solid silver, the nib adorned the quill, drawing up the ink, I drew the finest line.

Messy Ink Poetry ∙ 22 LIKES ∙ 8 RESTACKS

Dylz

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Very appreciative to have been included here. Thank you!

Curiosity is Poetry

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This piece is a fine line straight to the heart ♥️

Plants & Poetry

Jan 31

Rituals & Remedies - out now

Edited by Erica Dionora, Meghan Perry, & Jamie Nix

Rituals & Remedies Vol. 2 is an exploration of how we begin, endure, and end our days.

Plants & Poetry House ∙ 7 LIKES ∙ 3 RESTACKS

Return to Poetry

Jan 27

State Terror is Here; Carry On.

In the wake of another Minnesotan murdered by ICE, I’ve thought a lot about how to justify reading and writing poetry and essays during what feels like the end of the American Experiment.

Return to Poetry ∙ 12 LIKES ∙ 4 RESTACKS

Poetic Justice

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My first poem since my renaissance was about this very thing. It is 6 pages long. I was advised not to publish it out of fear of government retribution. I am now reviewing this decision, based on what is currently taking place in society. Courage!

darina

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I love the idea that seeking refuge in a novel is an act of defiance. It’s like saying you refuse to let the chaos consume your entire identity. We’re all just trying to keep our sanity while standing up to the "present regime’s dystopian undertakings," and poetry might be the only thing keeping the gears from grinding to a halt. Thank for this so so honest piece! 💌