Discover and read the best of Twitter Threads about #poetry

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Effective communication is not just about speaking, but about truly connecting with others and building bridges of understanding.
#tuesdayvibe #InspirationalQuotes #Inspireyourself
#quotes #poetry #poetrycommunity #WritingCommunity #AuthorsOfTwitter #Read #share #Retweet #RT Image
Communication is not just about transmitting words; it's about fostering genuine connections and creating a shared understanding.
Listening is the key to effective communication. It shows respect, validates others' experiences, and opens doors to deeper connections.
Read 10 tweets
One day, i'll know love, i'll know laughter, echoing rains. One day, paradise will open, love is like an apple, one bite of this love, bitterly sweet, It's unfulfilled . Like famous last words, the dream of love is fading… © 2023 by #3XiDe Corp #US #AmericanVietnamese #lyrics ImageImageImage
#CôngTằngTônNữMaiĐệLiênMinhHằng🌹🎵🌹🎶🌹🎵🌹🎶🌹🎵🌹🎶 <333 ……
🎼 Love Lamentations = Bao Giờ Biết Tương Tư 🇺🇸 Sáng tác tiếng Mỹ = English Lyrics Written By #MaryMVesely a/k/a #MaryMaiDeLien

One day, I'll know love, how to meet love, I'll know love's pain. One day, I must wait, I'll know sweetness, sadness of the rain 🌧. . .
Read 6 tweets
Buckle up for a thread about #PoetryBooks, #bookshops, #booksellers, poetry presses, & how they find each other. Like many poetry lovers, I'm disappointed by the lack of range of poetry books stocked in most bookshops I go in. We all know that shelf - one shelf, mostly faber.
For years I assumed 1 of 2 things: booksellers didn't read poetry, and/or booksellers adhered to the old maxim the poetry doesn't sell. Ofc, it won't sell if you don't have it on the shelves, so that's a self-fulfilling prophecy. #PoetryBooks #Bookshops #Bookselling #Poetry
For Background: I live with a bookseller and reviewer. I'm not a bookseller but I've done event bookselling. The bookseller reads a lot of poetry and the already decent poetry shelves of @SReadBooks have flourished in the 10 yrs he's worked there. #PoetryBooks #Bookselling
Read 18 tweets

cruise control

I stare out my window at the world
trying to make sense of what I see,
but everything illuminates in staccato flashes
and then, like lightning,
is gone.
I cannot grasp what passes for reality;
these brilliant bursts have nothing
to hold on to, no permanence.
Words and pictures, people and sounds
leave only blurred impressions
on the copper plate of the mind;
nothing sharp and clear develops
as a memory to be saved.
And when I dare the sidewalks
I cannot stroll at a good, slow pace,
cannot stop to admire an old doorknob,
a window crammed with curios,
without being jostled by impatient elbows,
almost trampled by flying feet,
all rushing – where? –
Read 6 tweets

starting over

there is no moonlight on the crossroads
no shining silver shaft
favoring one path over another
this is no voluntary hejira
nothing points the way
no map no compass but the courage but the courage of the heart

the loam of my life has been sown with salt
so i stand a solitary pilgrim
on a dark and windswept plain
reduced to nothing but the gifts
with which i was born
having to choose which way to go

© 2014 RC deWinter
published in @Lothlorienj
November 2022
Read 5 tweets

in the shadow of the windmill

i need to get away and i've always loved trains
but a train won't save me now
only take me to another station
on the road to golgotha
all the trains are sleeping anyway
confined in the infinite evening
of a dangerous summer adorned with
pale flowers and the leftover songs of sailors not sailing
even when i go out safe and alone
looking for you in the darkness
of the infinite evening
the heretic stars refuse to shine
Read 5 tweets
Who will tell the doctors (academic, nondisasbrled) that their tech fetishes & paranoias are absolutely related to their delight/disgust about disability?

Am I telling the doctors (academics)?

Is that what I'm doing? When I take their title and say: The title 'dr' ? I don't want it. The title 'dr' got way too much ableist detritus on it. You can call yourself that. I decline to call myself that.

lower case lower case lower case


I'm on social media where I can lower case the title as the title does not deserve uppers
Read 5 tweets

Digital Spies:

In the digital age, privacy is a challenge,
Our personal data is at risk of theft,
Protecting it requires more than a talisman.

Our online lives are a digital talisman,
Hackers and cybercriminals take the plunge,
In the digital age, privacy is a challenge. Image
We are always at risk, a digital malfunction,
Leaves us open to scams and identity theft,
Protecting it requires more than a talisman.

We need to create an environment of caution,
And implement measures that give us a breath,
In the digital age, privacy is a challenge.
We must protect our data, a digital orphan,
And safeguard our personal assets from theft,
Protecting it requires more than a talisman.
Read 6 tweets
#Surrealism against the current – A film review on #IvanZulueta´s "Rapture" (#Arrebato)
Available @IMDb…

1.- If you want to explore the prehistory of modern Spanish art-house and counterculture landscape, you must follow the antecedents,...
2.- and will find many connections and influences behind names like Almodovar, Banderas, and other popular names of the Spanish "Movida" and associated film scene. You might start taking a quick look at Jaime Chavarri's "Mi querida señorita" and "El desencanto" to understand...
3.- some of the latent energies that exploded fast forward in a counterculture piece like "Rapture".

Zulueta studied graphic design in New York, at the prestigious Arts Students League in Manhattan Midtown, where in 1964 he discovered Warhol's Superstars at The Factory,...
Read 37 tweets

Two Ways of Looking at Plague/Nothing Changes


The steady rhythm of indifferent machines
in the lazarettos
is the music
punctuating the bureaucratic silence of death.
In the lazarettos
the heartbeats of hostages are
punctuating the bureaucratic silence of death,
breaking time into teardrops.

The heartbeats of hostages are
the fury of grief,
breaking time into teardrops
staining the reality of now.
The fury of grief
is the music
staining the reality of now:
the steady rhythm of indifferent machines.
Read 6 tweets


two roads
and a yellow wood

no big deal bob

all my life's been trifurcated
triplet branches tugging at my soul
sucking at the well of creativity
each demanding the lion's share
of attention
and i
unable to sacrifice any of my children
have spent a lifetime
trying – and not well –
to appease three muses

my legs ache
with the memory
of trying to straddle these roads
a hopscotch from hell
designed to disquiet
even the most agile jongleur
my mind aches
crammed to overflowing
with eighthnotes visions words
much of which withers
in the pale neglect
of a distracted sun

my heart aches
as the unborn are reabsorbed
never to emerge
in quite the same incarnation
there's not enough time
Read 4 tweets

Sliding Scale

I love grey in all its penumbrations.
I made up that word, for what is a penumbra but
a cloud, a shroud, a shadow –
and what is grey if not all those things?
I made up that word, for what is a penumbra but
a soft sadness, a place to hide, a quiet reminder of absence.
And what is grey if not all those things
we disguise, pain best left unacknowledged.
A soft sadness, a place to hide, a quiet reminder of absence –
things we can do nothing to alleviate.
We disguise pain best left unacknowledged,
yet some think it's better to bleed that bright scarlet.
Read 4 tweets
1/19 A thread from the opening of "Episodic Memory" published by @KalynaPress - Liubov Holota translated from the Ukrainian by Stephen Komarnyckyj. Prose to wallow in ... want to read more? Please buy a copy :-) #Ukraine #Poetry #LiteraryFiction
2/19 Chapter 1: Corridor of Mirrors
3/19 … The old mirror was exposed to the atmosphere. Its lustre was devoured by moss, which thrived in the damp air, dried flecks of water and fungi, and it no longer gathered the images of all around onto its surface. It barely reflected a desiccated apricot branch, which bore
Read 19 tweets

sunday coffee god and all the rest of it

i sit sipping coffee by the window in the kitchen
as the procession of the faithful summoned by sunday bells begins
car after car carrying people dressed up for god and each other
rolling by on the way to whatever form of worship soothes their souls
but i an impenitent unbeliever reject the credulity called faith
that’s been fractured and reshaped into innumerable incarnations
and whether or not there’s a judgmental old man in the sky
remain unworried about my final disposition

i haven’t been good enough to deserve heaven nor bad enough to deserve hell
so if he exists i’ll be lounging in some nebulous corner of the universe
Read 5 tweets

gaunt trees
skeletal limbs bent in the awkward 
postures of winter stand
vulgar in a nakedness exposing 
every secret no longer leafed in green
a row of convicts martyred by 
what’s beyond control 
bent and curled by the harsh tongues
of indifferent winds and the evectional
orbit of the moon
if they could they’d shout alarms
in voices rusted with regret
but regret is a cold smear on a 
cracked plate so it’s left to the owl
to shriek the bitter disappointments

of the frozen earth
in the narrow slice of time between
today and tomorrow
Read 4 tweets
🚀 We are live! Here is the correct streaming link for all of today's discussions and performances, starting with a panel on complex time with David Krakauer, James Gleick, Ted Chiang, and David Wolpert in a few moments (measured linearly...):

"One of the ideas we had with #InterPlanetary was, 'What would it take to make science hedonistic? And instead of telling people to do it, you'd have to tell people to STOP doing it?"

- SFI President David Krakauer sets the tone for this weekend's celebrations
#IPFest Image
David Krakauer: "Do you have a favorite model or metaphor for #time?"

@JamesGleick: "You've already mentioned a river; that's everybody's favorite. Borges said time is a tiger. People talk about it as a thread. We ONLY talk about time in metaphors." Image
Read 141 tweets

archimedes' daughter

i reached for the stars
a hundred thousand times
twisting and turning into improbable shapes
i almost broke myself in half
and then said fuck it
i'll settle for love
and out went the arms again
into the crowded highway of hearts
meeting nothing but empty air
always just that much short of
touching the right one at the right time
and then said fuck it
i'll settle for comfort
and every lovely desirable thing whirled by
on a carousel no reaching arm could stop
though i flailed and spun myself dizzy trying
Read 5 tweets


somehow i got trapped in a loop
endless unvarying
high above anything tangible
but for the cool metal
of this cagelike seat
and the belt that straps me in

i whirl at the mercy of the universe
completely devoid of control
overseen by gods or abandoned godless
makes no nevermind
there’s no escaping this wheel
that shows me nothing but
the busy life of ants below
i’m a prisoner of the unknown
lacking the remedy of habeas corpus
perhaps i'm dead
is this eternity
caught fast
a helpless observer
jacob marley in lipstick
who sees the need
has the remedy
but is unable to intervene

the flat blue sky gives nothing away
no signs or portents
nothing pointing the way to damnation
or redemption
Read 6 tweets
#poetry #sonnet

Susanna's Song

Though once I thought myself the all-desired,
Now bloodless days do fill time's hourglass,
The silence echoes, dreams have not transpired,
As tortoise-slow the clockhands make their pass.
Left to imagination's dark device
My thoughts through lightless tunnels wander lost,
Stray orphans of a mind made imprecise
By absence of Love's saving Pentecost.
And failing that bright grace, what shall I own
But sunless days followed by truant sleep
Stolen by Jezebels unseen, unknown,
Leaving silence my company to keep.
Read 4 tweets

the witch remembers

i never made it my business
to break hearts
collecting bits and pieces
of those broken puzzles
as my prize
although i will confess
that in devotion to my craft
i used the foolishness of men
to good advantage
in a brutal world
where women were enslaved
i forswore those chains
in favor of dark magick
it doomed me
to a life alone

but better freedom
in its cold austerity
than the choking warmth
of being owned as property
now sitting
ancient and untouched by man
for many yea
i cast my memory backward
carefully re-stepping every crooked mile
of my journey
reexamining my choices
while i fondle fingerbones
collected from dead lovers
Read 5 tweets

the water bearer
(dirge for aquarius)

so many hours to fill
and the bucket
from which i fill them
rusting out
every day sees more droplets of soul
leaking from the seams
falling onto the ground
softening it
making a slippery unholy mess of mud
that is good for nothing and no one
but whatever dark demons
live in mud
every day more jagged flakes of thought
slough off and sink
anemic wet confetti
into that mud
trampled beyond recovery
by the workboots i must wear
in this dark wilderness

still i work on
neglecting chores
being not native to my nature

i am so tired
Read 7 tweets
It's been 2 years since you passed away and the void in my heart is still empty and aching. Just wrote out few lines on you to reminisce those memories with you and help me grieve better..
An ode to My Father

You never said I'm leaving
You never said goodbye .
You were gone before
Only god knew why
Those long walks with you as a kid
Taking shelter in your arms when tired
Those long discussion and funny stories you used to tell
I should do best & be happy, that was what you desired
Read 10 tweets
Hey everyone! I’m back online from hiatus and it's been an interesting few weeks. As I'm sure some have been wondering (and asking), I wanted to make sure to set the record straight on why I am no longer at Amistad. Buckle up for a thread… #ICYMI
On August 29, 2022, at around 10am ET, I was abruptly informed that the Senior Editor role at Amistad was being eliminated and thus my services in this position were no longer needed. I was also told that my official last day at HarperCollins would be September 9th. (1/?)
Within 30 min. of being informed of this my HarperCollins account was disabled. I was unable to effectively do my job or contact my authors/coworkers as an employee. None of my colleagues were alerted of management’s sudden decision about the dissolution of this position. (2/?)
Read 21 tweets

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