Latest Poetry Articles

Poetry Unbound

Nov 3

The governance of animals

Nesting things that nest among the trees

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 205 LIKES

Florence

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Trees

The underground system of solidarity

trunk steadfast strong bearing up

canopy reaching towards…while keeping

distance for all must see the sun

Branches a holding space for

nests, insects beetles flies bugs

leaves that give and take then turn

to colours falling to replenish the earth

Living the seasons of growth

flowering to fruitfulness

then the winter of rest doing it all

over and over and over

David Levy

•

To all the invisible singers

Voices arriving here and there

Unapplauded, unacknowledged,

Betwixed branches and vines

From shadows and crevices,

Riding, it seams,

Rays and waves

Of light.

Poetry Unbound

Oct 27

Short poems

Big stories

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 255 LIKES

Mona Chopra

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Oct 27

As I Lay Here in My Mom’s Bed Eleven Weeks After Her Passing, I Remember All the Times She Invited Me to Sleep in the Bed Next to Her

And my automatic, cheerful, high pitched response: “no thanks!”

Jenny Noble Anderson

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Oct 27

EVERY YEAR MY MOM GIVES ME A BOX OF ANDES MINTS TO PLACE IN MY CHRISTMAS STOCKING.

Last year, she forgot.

Poetry Unbound

Oct 13

It's pantoum time

What object is important to you?

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 267 LIKES

Michael T Smith

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Oct 13

After Danny’s accident it was given

Now it rests at the bottom of the stairway

Visitors stop and ask if I painted it

Smiling, I shake my head and say “Some day”

Now it rests at the bottom of the stairway

A childhood road in a winters light

Smiling, I shake my head and say “Some day”

Remembering that crisp fall night

A childhood road in a winters light

It brings some kind of hope that gets lost

Remembering that crisp fall night

It seems every gift we are given also has a cost

It brings some kind of hope that gets lost

Visitors stop and ask if I painted it

It seems every gift we are given also has a cost

After Danny’s accident it was given

Elianor

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Oct 13

In a blue box from my Great Grandmother’s hands

By my pillow tucked under the quilt

She needs a wash

How often I lay awake at night and laze in the morning

By my pillow tucked under the quilt

Once white fur, a stained pink ribbon, bent whiskers

How often I lay awake at night and laze in the morning

An old, worn toy

Once white fur, a stained pink ribbon, bent whiskers

My body ached with dread and despair unnamed

An old, worn toy

My coherence and comfort

My body ached with dread and despair unnamed

She needs a wash

My coherence and comfort

In a blue box from my Great Grandmother’s hands

Holy Poetry

Nov 6

Take your raw animal anger of a shovel-struck snake coiled and ready to strike and redirect it an aikido of the spirit, that is the alchemy of prayer. Take any version of eros or any fear, or any dull grief let it rise from below your belly. Let is rise up and out. Soften your knees, breathe. Each steady breath fuels the alchemy. Now, hold in …

Holy Poetry ∙ 13 LIKES

Nicki Chun

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Couldn’t be a better balm for the day after. Thank you Frank. Comfort food for the soul.

Maria Cataldo-Cunniff

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Quite a truth expressed here.

One more real-life, right-now expression of the paschal mystery: a hard one.

The good ones usually are.

Poetry Unbound

Oct 20

A vessel

… the sea is so big and my boat is so small

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 199 LIKES

maeve.fior

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Oct 20

I turn to the language of my garden. What is it that the weeds are teaching me today? -- "Easy come, easy go." What about the bulbs? "There is a time for dormancy."

A poem I wrote:

Let Me Begin Again

after Major Jackson and Philip Levine

Let me begin again

as a patient bulb

nestled in the dark earth

of early spring.

Let me begin this time

already knowing

the schedule of my blooming,

settled snugly on my basal plate,

gathering strength

below the surface, self-contained

and content in the damp.

This time, let me know

that the darkness is essential

to my ability to detect light.

Let me know my season,

know all things have theirs,

that mine will arrive

as sure as the earth spins.

My business is silent and secret –

let me not act with the rash urgency

of the weed, overeager,

tangled and choking

the plantings.

Let me emerge when

the pale, nudging light of spring

bids me

reach and reach

for the warmth until

my petals unfold.

Wendy Haynes

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Oct 20

I turn to the language of Needs. When I struggle or mourn, I am curious as to what is it that is calling to be heard? What needs are underlying my expression whether that be sadness or celebration? Just this week in a high tide of tiredness, I paused and listened to the waves of sadness and uncertainty. Listening to my body, to my breath, my needs were for rest, integrity and wellness. I pondered on these over my busy week: two difficult funerals and a 20th anniversary wedding celebration and renewal of vows. Mourning and celebration.

How then, I inquire, do these needs live in me, become alive through me? I cancelled what I had planned for today and leaned into a day of rest and prayer and meditation. I walked slowly along the beach. I took my 88 year old father for a walk; and then after dinner, I sat and watched the light fade and night descend. I feel nourished and rested, and ready for bed and to let go of everything as I sleep tonight.

I turn to the language of needs and listen for what is most alive and calling me home. This, time and time again, brings for me: clarity, connection and a sense of belonging. In writing down my needs in my diary is like a haiku, simple yet complex, seasonal and surprising.

Happy blessed birthday Padraig. When I read your messages and respond to your prompts it meets my needs for creativity, inspiration and a sense of belonging to this wonderful community you nourish and nurture. Thank you.

Poetry Unbound

10:21 AM

Art and coalition

The survival of surprise

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 130 LIKES

Jen G

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This week, I keep coming back to this quote (Toni Morrison, 2004, after Bush re-elected): “This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.

I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge — even wisdom. Like art.”

I tidied my workspace. I rage-cleaned my bathroom. Many texts, emails, calls and walks with friends; and we are determined to get back to our creative work, and to find an action (local or otherwise) to engage in going forward. That network of connections is important in sustaining us…

David Levy

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Wang Wei, Chinese poet/painter, lived in the 700’s. I was recently introduced to this poet via learning about David Hinton who translated Wang Wei’s poems into English. Lately, slowly, I have been exploring the Japanese Shakuhachi bamboo flute. One way of working with this flute is to take a poem that interests me, compose a simple music piece that resonates with the poem. Thus daily as I learn to play this flute I get to recite the poem, then play and listen to the flute sounds that “translate” the poem; the poem once written in Chinese, then translated into English, and now “translated” into flute sounds. What truly fascinates me, and keeps calling me into this poem is this line from the poem:

“A blossom’s heart is grief-torn? In all this

spring color, who could fathom the heart?”

My mind struggles to understand this first part. Can a flower feel such emotions? Given the recent elections in the US, given our shared climate challenges, my heart quietly weeps with this blossom. Who am I to believe or disbelieve the blossom’s capacity to be grief-torn? What I can do is stand next to the blossom and be still, and weep. Together, we thrive.🏮

Poetry Unbound

Oct 6

Making a poem

During a week of awful anniversaries

Dear friends,

Pádraig Ó Tuama ∙ 307 LIKES

Katherine H.

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Oct 6

From time to time, it helps to ask whether I’ve got something backwards. Doesn’t always work, but it can be profound when it does.. October 7 is intolerable. What came before and to which October 7 is a response is intolerable, unsustainable. The only thing I can think of to ask is whether in these situations our grief can be so profoundly shared that it might transform us, might travel with us to a moment where imagination and action are again possible, where that ordinary, momentary, 180-degree rearrangement of expectations can accommodate us to each other in just some tiny or fragile way that we did not have before.

David Levy

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Oct 6

Hi, Padraig,

As always, thank you for your thoughts, concerns, and chosen words. In 2016 I sat on a park bench in the center of a small village in Palestine, drinking Arabic coffee and playing, of all things, a Native American style flute. A Palestinian family arrived and sat at a picnic table right before me. The parents had just bought their two young daughters small wooden flutes. One-by-one the children took turns sitting by me and we played flutes together. In that moment I felt adopted by this family. Music gave us a freedom that transcended words. Once tasted, this freedom released us from feeling separated from each other.

I offer a poem by Wang Wei(a very new visitor into my life):

A Red Peony

Among captivating greens idle and serene,

it’s red robes are shallow, and then so deep.

A blossom’s heart is grief-torn? In all this

spring color, who could fathom the heart?

Your words today, Padraig, deepen my appreciation of this poem. Best, David🏮

Holy Poetry

Nov 9

The Widow's Might

A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Mark 12:42

A widow, a Karen, and a hipster stood at the ten items or less checkout. The non-conformist in front had twelve delicacies in his basket The legalist noticed this injustice and made a ruckus. The widow, last in line, thought the boy was fine. On the way out of the cut rate grocery, her bank account an empty memory, the widow fingered the …

Holy Poetry ∙ 18 LIKES

Martin Casella

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Frank. That poem left me happily grinning. Thank you for some lovely glory today. We need it.

Holy Poetry

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Sometimes this scripture passage is called, "The Widow's Pence" or "The Widow's Mite."

Poetry Trapper Keeper

Nov 6

A Platonic Ode to Seeing Your Nipples Through That Mesh Shirt at the Club

By Bianca Ferrari

Hello Everyone! Hope you had a safe week and hopeful start to the month of November! I took a little editorial break last week, it’s been important to know when to do so. As I am writing this post, it is Monday, November 4th. By the time you’re reading this it will be Wednesday, November 6th. That means that between the writing and the reading, much ca…

Poetry Trapper Keeper ∙ 6 LIKES

Uplift Poetry

Nov 8

This Sunday: Intro to spoken word with Angela Peita!

Book your free ticket and take your poetry from page to stage

Intro to spoken word with Angela Peita

Uplift Poetry

Poetry Pals

Nov 3

Blink and you've missed it!

Autumn Poetry (Pen) Pals #42

I wrote this post a few weeks ago. And then another topic popped into my head and I pushed it back a week. And then I remembered Halloween and back it went again. And then Samhain arrived, the leaves started piling themselves up in damp mounds and the whole thing felt irrelevant.

Nelly Bryce ∙ 20 LIKES

Tamsin Chennell

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here you go Nelly - one of those rare moments when words respond

Before you even described it,

when you said the word ‘red’

I knew exactly what it was

a tree resplendent in glory

filigree fingers splayed on

numerous thin branches

preparing themselves for

their release to the ground

to season the earth below with

hope of a returning Spring

Erin Stinson

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“When Autumn Came”… woah. I find the poet’s use of language so effective. Autumn feels almost violent in this perspective, which I can relate to - almost begging for mercy. Something I’ve definitely appreciated this year is the honesty of poetry. It’s almost not worth writing if it’s not honest.

Of Trees & Poetry

Nov 8

Craft & Play Vol. 21

encounter God through poetry

Hello friends,

Of Trees & Poetry, Julia McMullen, and E R Skulmoski ∙ 15 LIKES

Gala

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17m

this poem is so gorgeous 🥺

Ishah

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37m

Thanks for sharing this, it's a great creative prompt!

Of Trees & Poetry

Nov 1

Friday & Favourites Vol. 26

A reflection on All Saints' Day

Hello friends,

Of Trees & Poetry, Julia McMullen, and E R Skulmoski ∙ 11 LIKES

Kassi Wilson

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Nov 1

💙

Rabbit Room Poetry

Nov 8

Announcing a New Poetry Podcast from the Rabbit Room! Rhyme and Reason

We are about to release a new poetry podcast called Rhyme and Reason. Each season, we’ll do a deep dive into the life and work of one important poet, starting with Gerard Manley Hopkins for season one.

54 LIKES

Levi DeLange

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Yes! I am so excited for this!

VeeInNY

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Good news...

Poetry & Made Things

Nov 6

Your List of Poets to Read if You're Writing Poetry

Contemporary, Classical and 20th Century Christian Poets

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a good writer will also be a wide reader. My own work has been greatly informed and influenced by reading the words of many other Christian poets over the …

Jody L. Collins

Emerging Hermit

Oct 30

Poetry: Firebird

The Ekphrastic Poems

I’m so glad to be posting this poem today. As the American election looms, today feels like a very good day to celebrate and honour Saint Lucy. I’m sure many of you are familiar with her story, but I wasn’t until I began writing this collection of poems. I’d looked at Caravaggio’s painting, ‘The Burial of St. Lucy’, many times, but I’d not known what ha…

Emerging Hermit ∙ 31 LIKES

LeAnn Eriksson

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Nov 1

How beautiful! In the version of the story that I know, St. Lucy was accused of being a Christian by her fiancé and martyred in the Diocletianic Persecution when she refused to burn a sacrifice to the the emperor’s image…and yes, not even a team of oxen could move her when it was ordered that she be taken away to a brothel. I live in Sweden, where she is celebrated everywhere on December 13 with “Lucia Tåg” processions led by a girl dressed in white, with a red sash, and wearing lit candles on her head. It’s one of the biggest communal events of the year, celebrating light during the darkest days before the solstice. Thank you for sharing this beauty ✨♥️

Graham Morgan

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Oct 30

Oh ! I love that last line!

M.A. Hastings Poetry

Nov 7

My Journey's Not Done

The Reconsideration

What Matters

M.A. Hastings Poetry and Glad Klassen ∙ 3 LIKES

Peggy Williams

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It's hard not to contest the ideas of close friends. I have a couple of MAGA friends (& family members) who are my polar opposites politically! I avoid talking politics around them.

The Wee Sparrow Poetry Press Newsletter

Oct 29

Episode 34 - Kala Ramesh

In this episode, Claire chats to poet Kala Ramesh about her collection The Forest I Know published by Harper Collins.

The Wee Sparrow Poetry Press ∙ 19 LIKES

Rupa Anand

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Oct 30

A super podcast on Kala’s book - ‘The Forest I Know’. The ‘beauty, transience, & mysterious Grace’ of Tanka - speaks to me in more ways than one . . .Loved listening to Kala in her deliciously mellifluous voice. Enjoyed it very much. ❤️

Nandita

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Oct 30

Loved listening to Kala in this episode. Claire asked very insightful questions and the discussion was so engaging.

A musician and a poet, and so much more, Kala never ceases to inspire me. Listening to such lovely poems in Kala’s lyrical style kept me spellbound.

I will have to come to this podcast again, atleast once more to savour the beauty of this conversation. Thank you!!

Poetry Trapper Keeper

Nov 1

Everyday is New Year’s Day (even November 1st!) 🥂

no more diarrhea/ no more delusions

Back in January, we had the great privilege of being joined by some of you in two thematic poetry workshops: QUEERING RESOLUTIONS which we hosted with Unwanted Words, and HOT PEOPLE DON’T MAKE RESOLUTIONS with The Berlin Writers.

3 LIKES

Aimee Liu's MFA Lore

Nov 7

Coping Through Poetry

Beauty and art remind us to listen to this moment

Aimee Liu and AuthorsForDemocracy ∙ 9 LIKES

Jennifer Steil

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Thank you, Aimee. Love to you, and infinite gratitude for all of your work to fight for light. xoxox

The Violet Tiger

Oct 31

Poetry as Protest

2 Eco-Poems, don't mistake the Earth for something we simply walk upon....

This is the last time I will be a bird This is the last time I will be a bird. My belly swoops full of plastic and ocean, these wings become arms as I fall through insignificant thermals. Here in my new thin fingers I grasp land like a rug. Where feathers may have brushed their combs so lightly to leave barely a mark, I can only sculpt my pres…

Susannah Violette ∙ 24 LIKES

Danielle Langin

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Stunning poetry!

Josie Rashmi Smith

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Nov 2

Eloquent anger Susannah. Poetry is a powerful means of protest. Thank you for the beauty of your words.

Some Things Considered with Sean Murphy

3:00 PM

Poetry as Placeholder

Short and Not-So-Sweet

While we catch our breath and continue to process what’s happened, and what’s going to happen (I have many thoughts, and I wonder: do I need to write them down? Does anyone need to read them?), as a placeholder it seems appropriate to revisit this set of haikus,

Sean Murphy

Cow We Doin'

Nov 8

On Poetry

Whitman, Nerudo, optimism, contentedness

My senior year of college I took a seminar course on pre-1890 American literature. My final paper for that class was on Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.

Lou Tamposi ∙ 16 LIKES

Andi

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What an easy, breezy recipe full of all good stuff!

Your writing always reminds me of Walt Whitman—oddly I was going to mention that last week. And as Walt Whitman quoted, “To have great poets, there must be great audiences.”

Love you!