trk. 2
broken bond when one
lies of little things they lie
about everything !
— Day Sibley
Tag Archives: Creative nonfiction
Cardiac Arrest
June 7, 2017
vibrating body
waves of light
suspended air
disorient sounds
this is what it feels like to die.
— day sibley, cardiac arrest
He Called Me a Wild Woman
B. Riggs
you and the wild are one. longing/ brewing/ waiting to be liberated.
relinquish all/ that has been repressed. thrive in danger/ take flight/
dare/ seize the adventures/ one would cower to.
Untitled Sixty-nine
I cry a lot now
because I wasn’t allowed
to
in my past life.
—To’Wednesday Sibley, Untitled 69
Building Poetry Communities on WordPress.com
Lately, I’ve been spilling with ideas left and right. I’ve always wanted to start my own literary journal and open mic show. On top of creating a microblogging/social network website for writers all over the world, that way you can not only share your work but information on writing too.
As we’re entering the final week of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) in the US, we want to celebrate all the wonderful poetry-centric community projects here on WordPress.com.
The sites we feature today — like many others we follow and love — make an important point. We may all write on our own, but it’s only when we join a community of other writers and readers that our voices are truly heard.
Keeping it local
Some of the tightest-knit poetry groups are bound by a shared space, where writers know not only each other’s work, but also each other’s face. Over at Poetdelphia, Philly-based poets share poems, announce readings and other events, and celebrate community members’ achievements.
Ghostless Sleep, by Yasin Chines at Xsentric.
Similarly, .: Poetry in Chicago is a project that aims to bring together writers from across the city’s eclectic poetry community, with posts on
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America the Forsake
I’m scared for my country.
It belongs to rough pale masculine
hands breed to pillage and take with
straightforward tongue, twisted dominance.
Its leaders reflect that of a parent to a child.
Showing pain cloaked and ready for war.
Let this country mirror the fool or the
devil who acts like a saint!
Untitled Fifty-eight
I am paying
for sins I did in the past
but don’t remember.
Untitled Fifty-Seven
I’m sorry
I couldn’t fit your superficial
idea of me.
Day Sibley 