A Tanka by Paul Vincent Cannon
Photo: found at betterup.com Form: Tanka (5-7-5-7-7) primordial sludgedisturbances agitate siltthe old darkness risesfeelings held by inward breathmy heart is clear once again Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent CannonAll Rights Reserved ®️
Endless Possibility Creed – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Open Link Night (with live edition) - the night we choose a poem to post. dVerse Poets - OLN Image/quote: found at quotefancy.com Endless Possibility CreedI believe in humanitythe possibility of loveI believe in…
a white neon sign spelling “YES YES” glows against a dark background, with visible wiring and a power box beneath. The Broken Spine logo sits top left, “@thebrokenspine.co.uk” appears top right, and the lower right text reads: “Read Repost Reply #POEMSABOUT #CONSENT”.
Tomorrow: #PoemsAbout #Consent.
Not mood.
Not guesswork.
Not entitlement.
Don’t post before Friday.
That spoken yes?
That mutual leaning in?
That’s the poem.
Tag it.
Use Alt Text.
For #PoemsAbout #Consent
with much thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk
Yes, I'm in awe of her resilience despite to two suicide attempts, she is now a professional, a great mum and and an all round good person. Thank you foir the kind words about her. ❤️
A Tanka by Paul Vincent Cannon
For Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge No. 55, Ekphrastic Poetry, Colleen has invited us to source a work of art and to write a syllabic poem using a syllabic form from the forms list HERE. Select a piece of art as your inspiration! You can either use the painting I…
For #TankaThursday
tanka weekly #poetry challenge March 12, 2026
this week’s prompt: watch
write a tanka using prompt & include hashtag #TankaThursday #TankaPoem #micropoetry
With much thanks to @evecastle.bsky.social
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Yes, those words capture my feeling, sadly.
Ah, thank you John, so much appreciated.
So welcome Sue
Aha ❤️
Pleasure is mine Rachel ❤️
I think the honest answer is she's doing brilliantly for a broken person, she was sexually assaulted by her employer, and then another employee and (predictably) rejected by our mother. Gah!!
Yes, agreed Jen and - my pleasure indeed.
So welcome John ❤️
So welcome Jan ❤️
My pleasure Paul 😀
My Desert Drift – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
At dVerse Dora is hosting Poetics with an invitation to incorporate a landscape or cityscape into your poetry that either mirrors or amplifies your interior landscape (or lack thereof). Be sure to use the examples above to guide you as to what I mean…
This Way That – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
At dVerse De is hosting the Quadrille (44 words sans title) inviting us to write a poem using some form of the word bird. dVerse Poets - Quadrille - Bird Is The Word Photo: A New Holland Honeyeater found at birdfact.com This Way ThatAngels…
Store Bought – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Image by d Bossarte from Pixabay Form: Shadorma (3-5-3-3-7-5) Store BoughtMannequin looking through me tosome futureundefined but one kiss and your plasticlips softly entwine. Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent CannonAll Rights Reserved ®️ This was…
I find it somewhat unsettling when sometimes it catches me in an unguarded moment, certainly weird!
"Bits and pieces of me everywhere" so love this line as it speaks to so much the poem is conveying.
Arrows You watch me undress even though you can’t really see me because my body is a ruin and I have vanished under the rubble. I am writhing under your eyes which might as well be crosshairs, palpitating in this animal carcass that takes up too much space. Bits and pieces of me scatter everywhere like dead skin cells or eyelashes, tiny insignificant things you can wish on but that never come true. This is how I mark my territory, in chewed off fingernails and stray hair bands, careless words and stuttered apologies, sacred beads of spit and blood. This is where I have come to love and to haunt. This is where I will raise a little church. But you can’t really see me now because I’ve gone inside to pray. I am building nests on branches that can’t hold me. And my spine curves like the bent neck of a deer bowing before the hunter’s gun. Like it is trying to tell you something secret. Like it wants to bridge an enormous gap. You only come to watch me unravel so you can hide in the cracks. I am but a bird in the palm of your hand. Just one little twist of your fingers to break its brittle bones. You will only really see me once you dare to lift off the burial shroud and find out that the crumpled cerecloth once upon a time was a wing.
Late but here is my submission for #PoemsAbout #BeingWatched ✨
for @thebrokenspine.co.uk
& @alanparrywriter.co.uk
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Every generation it seems to me, my sister fell victim to those eyes ....
Black box with a poem in white writing: watched get your fucking eyes off me – or I’ll tear them out
This week's #PoemsAbout prompt, #BeingWatched, was pretty triggering for me - think it shows in my response.
Happy Friday poets! 💜
@thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk
Horrific reality and one I have seen in family and in the wider community, and then that stuff in the media that raises my hackles ... Gritty stuff Jane.
I haven't done this for a while, but after hearing the shameful figures about the tsunami of masculism in our enlightened world, I felt moved to say something.
#PoemsAbout #BeingWatched
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
