Poetry Blogs

Discover independent poetry blogs and writers on BlogRolly.

• Man was Made to Mourn – Robert Burns — On Burns Night I've posted the full text of Robert Burns' "Man was Made to Mourn", a bleak and beautiful poem with brief
• Crows in Spring – John Clare — A spring crow tumbles through old trees, and this post presents John Clare's "Crows in Spring" with the full poem, a pho
• There is Love — A simple love poem that feels like an old friend. This post features my poem There Is a Love from A Particle of You, the
• We Stand — A quiet kitchen moment becomes an entire world. My short poem We stand, from Backyards (June 2023), gathers laughter in
• Do You Feel It Too? — A whisper in the wind sparked a short poem about moonlight, tides and a rising spiritual pulse. In Do You Feel It Too? I
• as our world loses we should... — Tiny lines, big echo. I leave a haiku about loss and love, dark, personal and micro, a short poem about hope that insist
• you’re not a victim — A dark, personal haiku about reclaiming power. I kept it micro and raw, titled "you’re not a victim one needs..." and it
• when time’s running out... — A late night haiku asks, when time’s running out will you be able to say you’ve tried hard enough. I offer a short, dark
• Book spine poem: When the Lights Go Down — A night‑mood book spine poem made from noir and mystery titles, playing with fading light, cinema shadows and that momen
• Book spine poem: All the Pieces Matter — A book spine poem built from crime, language and Wire‑ish titles, about how all the pieces matter when you’re paying att
• Book spine poem: Listening to the Wind — This spine poem leans into weather, folklore and quiet Irish landscapes, letting the stacked titles do the talking while
• Book spine poem: Touching the Precipice — A small tower of books about cliffs, risk and language, arranged into a book spine poem that toes the edge between curio
• Book spine poem: Hidden Symptoms — I make a low‑key pandemic‑era book spine poem from medical and psychological titles, thinking about hidden symptoms, qui
• Book spine poem: Return from the Stars — A science‑tinted book spine poem built from Lem and other speculative titles, about coming back from the stars and findi
• Book spine poem: Memory — A reflective book spine poem about memory and forgetting, stacked from cognitive science and memoirs, where each book ti
• Book spine poem: Antarctica — I pile cold, desolate titles into a book spine poem about Antarctica, ice, political ghosts and Eldridge Cleaver, lettin
• Book spine poem: Secret Place — This one’s a short, half‑whimsical spine poem about a secret place, made from crime, childhood and hideaway titles that
• Book spine poem: Sleep the Big Sleep — I riff on noir, insomnia and literal sleep in a book spine poem that stacks crime novels and sleep science, somewhere be
• Book spine poem: Swearing Is Good for You — A sweary little book spine poem in praise of taboo words and everyday cursing, built from books on profanity, psychology
• With my daughter’s permission — I’m learning what it means to share family stories with care, asking my daughter what feels right to tell and what stays
• Melodic Margins between Seasons — I’m noticing the small, musical shifts that happen in the in-between late winter into spring, endings into beginnings. A
• Beams of light, brilliantly banded — Light has been finding me in unexpected ways lately through windows, across water, in brief moments of clarity. A reflec
• Writing my path — I’m finding my way by writing through it messy drafts, morning pages, and honest reflections on becoming. This is about
• Letting Layers Go — I’m shedding what no longer fits old expectations, habits, and stories I’ve outgrown. A quiet reflection on personal gro
• A touch that awakens — Sometimes it only takes a small moment a hand on a shoulder, a kind word to wake something in me. This piece lingers on
• Cool water — I keep returning to water lately for clarity, calm, and a reset when life feels heavy. A simple reflection on swimming,
• The flavor of summer — I’m holding onto the taste of summer fresh fruit, long evenings, and small rituals that make the season feel full. A sen
• Dressed for (a heart’s) success — I’m thinking about what it means to show up dressed for the life I want not just in clothes, but in mindset. A reflectiv
• Slow to unfold — Some things in my life are taking their time, and I’m learning not to rush them. This is about patience, personal growth
• Huckleberry Dreams beneath the Beaver Moon — Under the beaver moon, I’m wandering through memory, nature, and quiet night thoughts. A reflective piece on moonlit wal
• Let Me In — A vulnerable free-verse poem about wanting to be seen, heard, and let inside someone’s emotional world. I write through
• MISTRESS — A short, sharp epigram with audio, part love poem, part confession. I play with desire, secrecy, and the blurred lines o
• Nauseous — This is a visceral free-verse poem about anxiety, overwhelm, and the physical weight of emotion. I write from the body q
• Sculpting — A reflective poem about shaping the self through pain, growth, and time. I use the metaphor of sculpting to explore iden
• Wired — A spoken word poem with audio about being overstimulated, hyperaware, and emotionally charged. I write about the tension
• The Playground — This poem revisits childhood spaces with an adult heart. I reflect on memory, innocence, and what lingers from the past
• Infected By Love — A love poem that leans into obsession, longing, and emotional contagion. I write about love as something that spreads, s
• Waiting for You — A quiet, yearning poem about anticipation and emotional distance. I write from the space of waiting holding onto hope, m
• I Searched for You — This poem follows the restless act of looking for someone in places, memories, and fragments of the past. I explore long
• Mangled — A darker free-verse poem about emotional damage, survival, and trying to make sense of what’s been twisted. I write thro
• Imbue — A lyrical short story about what we pour into the things and people we love. I explore meaning, intention, and the quiet