A serene massacre. How cute you see a tunnel of light.
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___’d
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anuthanote
My name lingers around crevices of your teeth. The gaps, where soap slides and slips uselessly, remember charcoal rubbings impressed on dark corners of my face. Acid builds when you’d rather sleep. Some call that heartburn for how little you mean to them - heartache - I had hoped.
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Alloy
The sad part about Atlas: When he shrugged, no one came to rub menthol cream over his bruised shoulder.
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Just Finished: “Supernova” by Ris V Rose
My friends, today, I’ve gorged myself: On morsels of chocolate, bitter leaves, and honey wine – on smiles and choked down tears alike.
“Supernova” was everything I needed it to be and a couple things I didn’t expect. A beautiful poetry collection, the blossoming of a harbinger, inspiration, the touch of another’s empathy, and a nostalgic peach.
Where I often find consistency dull, “Supernova” cast charm upon the subtle nuances of a theme across years of learning. Insight Ris has come to from the depths of sorrow to the vibrance of her life mimicking the metaphor she carried with her throughout.
Guiding you through the book, Ms. Rose leaves you with the catharsis of her notes: sometimes punchy sarcasm, others deep longing, often both. Not only do they bring you closer to her world, but provide a new lens with which to re-read the passages. I felt a familiarity with the honesty that lurks beneath compared to the sweetness written above.
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It’s Pronounced Bæzəl
Listen to the elders. Their beseeching spilt over dry leather cracks and smoked spices. Painful cinnamon with a hint. Piscine odored mist upon the bridge connecting feelings to one so bereft, so clouded...
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Darkness says she’s not left-handed
Gentle ambition lives among the fears of wasted breath. No sooner had I clung to this revelation than the cliff stopped abruptly at the entrance of my fall. Honestly, rude.
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recycled musings
Autumn, we look back, who am I? I thought you were... supposed to know. A sliver in tune with cracks in my voice reflected on lustrous cheeks. Another dead-leaf labyrinth to roam alongside gentle kisses of burnt, balsam breeze.
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Journey’s Across the Poetry Community: allpoetry
Happy labor day!
Lately, I’ve made virtual ventures to a wonderful site called All Poetry (AP). I’ve enjoyed my shallow experience there so far, and wanted to leave a review for anyone who’s interest gets piqued. All Poetry features a few perks that make it an exceptional platform for writers and poetry connoisseurs alike.
All Poetry hosts a large community of friendly and welcoming writers. The fellow readers and writers have opened themselves to me as a newcomer. They even have special greeters to make you feel at home. From there, you have options.
Join A Contest
Similar to r/OCpoetry, AP allows writers to submit to contests after providing 2 comments to other posts in the same contest. Some of these contests provide monetary incentives and some are just plain fun. The contests range from the open-free-verse to the hyperspecific. I found this one particularly clever.
Join A Group
Like so many other online platforms, AP allows members to create and join groups. The multitude of those available appears as diverse as the people who reside there. The communities are welcoming and extremely responsive. You can hang in the back or expose yourself to a lot of helpful feedback.
The Technicals
Navigating through the site has been a breeze. Switching from comments, to contests, to your own profile is a cinch and the performance of the site overall feels powerful.
Once you’ve got your bearings, you’re ready to write. The platform offers a simple interface, but has a lot of pre-coded options for fonts and formatting. This interface lends itself to the poet especially as you explore some of the editing options.That’s all for now!
Of course, you can find yours truly on AP if you’re interested, but I’d be just as happy if you meander over for your own indulgence.
I hope you enjoy your weekend.
Best,
Josh -
turtle dove x bellyup
A reworking of the original turtle dove.
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around you
Do that thing again. You cry while I hold you, like the little baby I am. Don’t look now, but wow, I’ve never fucked up so completely. Oh wait, yes I have.
Scribbles 'n Bits 