Latest posts tagged with #SPECTATING on Bluesky
SPECTATING KINGSMAN IN MARVEL RIVALS
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Don't forget to choose me as your support-a-creato... #marvelrivals #EpicPartner #spectating #timthetatman #gaming
TIMTHETATMAN SPECTATES DPS DEADPOOL IN MARVEL RIVALS
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Don't forget to choose me as your support-a-creator! Use Code - "timtheta... #EpicPartner #timthetatman #spectating #marvelrivals #1 #deadpool #gaming
Also my entire leg decided to just start fucking up suddenly so now im #spectating
**Quite A Quiet**
Onion,
The silent #speaker
Or perhaps spectator
Yawning on
The #kitchen counter
#Seems to
Stir
Some fresh
Subliminal stirrings
Thrashing
The blues-shield awnings
Threadbare
#vss365 #2WordPrompt
#promptcombo #spectating
#PoemsAbout #spectacle
@alanparry83.bsky.social
Late to the game after a distracted week, a wee poem that sort of fits #promptcombo #poemsabout #spectacle #spectating
Our Blood Eye My companion's eye rise and eye set, colours my eye red. I am their mirror. I light where hedge of the world is thinnest. Wax a time of keen delight and horror. Draw down the light from my pupil. These veins are dry canals for imagination. Have you seen the soar of my high mountains? Map this moment's landscape transformation. Walk through this geography of my eye, named by you, reflection of your own vision looking down at you, my wildness is tamed. I'm a dead eye, defined by position. I circle the shape of your dreams, wax, wane your inner tides, a need to explain.
Hi Ronnie, @rfsmith.bsky.social. Thank you for the view of #promptcombo #spectating. My fifth also from my sold out collection"Wolf Eye," Red Ceilings Press:
By coincidence, the #PromptCombo theme this week was #Spectating The themes weren’t exactly inversions or images of each other. But there are fruitful overlaps
![Spectating A Spectacle
We erect glass towers that yell;
Members only—
where hollow-voiced CEOs chant, "Growth!"
while the orchestra’s cellos
splinter into eviction notices.
We farm gold fields of grain,
enough to feed every starving mouth—
trade them with rigged hands
while the stock market’s violin sobs;
Famine in D Minor.
We build pumps to bleed the earth
from its dinosaur veins—
while somewhere, a seal pup
pirouettes an accidental shift
into a tar-black swan.
We wire the world in binary,
hoard ghost coins in digital clouds,
as robot billionaires birth AIs—
while the uninsured rest in peace
as @[deleted] profiles.
We launch satellites that murmur,
"turn left in 100 metres"
to cure our chronic lostness—
while they blow kisses as coordinates
to guided missiles.
Oak trees unfurl their shade
like a borderless currency,
roots chasing freedom, not profit—
while their branches draft leases
for birds, in rent-free leaves.
Lush forests share their berries,
like laughter among tails and beaks,
with no barcode on the packaging—
while the wind conducts symphonies
of crescendo mating calls.
Relentless tides arrive each day,
licking life clean without invoices—
while scouring sea-salt hands
stitch the split sky in colour
with rainbow threads.
Bountiful rains code the earth,
in encrypted delugescript,
while the soil deciphers its input—
a treasure without a toll
or discriminating logins.
Migrating birds etch their flight plans
into the wind’s muscle memory—
while an ancient algorithm guides
their path with no coordinates,
toward radiant warmth.
(Continued in the comments)](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:2tld3liylgj6wscencrrt3u5/bafkreienxbk6mie6rxjrdqj3jbfut74xtss7gy3dnarr6xzf5cqs6suebq)
Spectating A Spectacle We erect glass towers that yell; Members only— where hollow-voiced CEOs chant, "Growth!" while the orchestra’s cellos splinter into eviction notices. We farm gold fields of grain, enough to feed every starving mouth— trade them with rigged hands while the stock market’s violin sobs; Famine in D Minor. We build pumps to bleed the earth from its dinosaur veins— while somewhere, a seal pup pirouettes an accidental shift into a tar-black swan. We wire the world in binary, hoard ghost coins in digital clouds, as robot billionaires birth AIs— while the uninsured rest in peace as @[deleted] profiles. We launch satellites that murmur, "turn left in 100 metres" to cure our chronic lostness— while they blow kisses as coordinates to guided missiles. Oak trees unfurl their shade like a borderless currency, roots chasing freedom, not profit— while their branches draft leases for birds, in rent-free leaves. Lush forests share their berries, like laughter among tails and beaks, with no barcode on the packaging— while the wind conducts symphonies of crescendo mating calls. Relentless tides arrive each day, licking life clean without invoices— while scouring sea-salt hands stitch the split sky in colour with rainbow threads. Bountiful rains code the earth, in encrypted delugescript, while the soil deciphers its input— a treasure without a toll or discriminating logins. Migrating birds etch their flight plans into the wind’s muscle memory— while an ancient algorithm guides their path with no coordinates, toward radiant warmth. (Continued in the comments)
My offering for this week's inspirational themes of #Spectating and #Spectacle.
Thank you @rfsmith.bsky.social for hosting #PromptCombo and thank you @alanparry83.bsky.social and @brokenspinearts.bsky.social for hosting #PoemsAbout
Feedback more than welcome.
Eye He imagines cracks under every shutter, the door inched ajar – eye glaring at his back from street-lamps and the headlights of passing cars. Every sound from the stairwell is a demand slipped under the door, photographs of women he recognises as friends who have comforted him before. His short steps tap the floorboards like the chatter of window-panes he hides from as he passes through the night to close curtains and switch off light. Eye finds cracks under every shutter, forces the door ajar – eye stares at him from street-lamps and the headlights of passing cars – understands nothing.
#PoemsAbout #Spectacle
@brokenspinearts.bsky.social
As others noticed, this week's theme intertwines with #PromptCombo #Spectating This one is very old, previously anthologised in 1986 (!), now sufficiently rewritten to be called a new one. Fearful, hopeful against hope❤️🙏
@alanparry83.bsky.social
Schrodinger’s Cat There’s nothing striking or showy from the outside no fanfare or parade to warm up the audience. Peer through the windows and you’ll see more but few signs of intention or movement within. Behind the door, behind the curtains lies a theatre of the disfigured. There’s a forlorn school trumpet and a guitar with a missing E string. I’d ask you to take a seat but they were long buried beneath a car crash of flotsam jetsam and everysom. You can picture situations, you might hear what it’s like to be there but I can’t show you how to swallow the unspeakable that boils inside. You see, a box has two dimensions outer and inner. Schrodinger’s cat is there if you look far enough into the dark, whetting its paws, wiping its eyes, bricked-in, a ball of confusion. © Glenn Barker June 2025
Hello @brokenspinearts.bsky.social and host @alanparry83.bsky.social.
It's an unusual week of synchronicity for #PoemsAbout #Spectacle and #PromptCombo #Spectating.
Here's the state of things, rendered suitably enigmatic. Not all spectacles are visible from the outside.
#Spectating #PromptCombo
@rfsmith.bsky.social
#Spectacle #PoemsAbout
@alanparry83.bsky.social
@brokenspinearts.bsky.social
My recording of my #poem World. First published in The High Window
#PoemsAbout #Spectacle @brokenspinearts.bsky.social @alanparry83.bsky.social #PromptCombo #Spectating @rfsmith.bsky.social #poetrycommunity #booksky #vss365
World. A poem by Paul Connolly. First published in The High Window World He stopped, momentary prisoner of the weather’s unreasonableness: heat behind him – he thought his hair would ignite – but slipperiness ahead – for despite the heat, the slope remained soppy after yesterday’s storms. So he abandoned his usual route along the sheep field and turned onto a faint erosion into the woods. He sauntered the drenches of murk cool where the air retained rainfall vestiges, sprinkles of warmth, and occasional baths hot plunges where marked footpaths were clearances at ground level reflected in jagged enlargement by upper gorges craters of air in the treetop landscape, and saw a thin felled tree, weather-split along its spine filled with fantastical harps and zithers. His inspections rotated these looms, interfaced them, swirled them with oil-on-water pigments. They refined and combed themselves out in wefts of Havisham hair and gossamer, pulled Hepworth and Moholy-Nagy strings taut, oscillated White Heat’s waves, and then uplifted platforms of light bejewelled and spangled through with ever-changing radiance offering hope or oppressing with impossible hope the unseen inhabitants in the dark canyons and chambers below.
World. A #poem about #spectacle and #spectating First published in The High Window
#PoemsAbout @brokenspinearts.bsky.social @alanparry83.bsky.social #PromptCombo @rfsmith.bsky.social #poetrycommunity #booksky #vss365
Thanks for the repost, much appreciated 😊💫
@shaunbarr.bsky.social
#promptcombo #spectating
Sorry about the visual quality and also sorry for incorrect tag - should have been #Spectating
In a frenzy of confusion today 🙈
Spectator When I was a small child I played a game of silence not speaking to punish, a protest swallowed whole. It went unnoticed. But inside, I sharpened an eye greedy for gestures, the flick of a throat, the tilt of breath, shadows behind intention. Still, I gagged my words, waited for hush to echo, learned to track the room— every shoulder turned away, every glance ricocheting past me. Now I move through rooms like glass clear, reflective, untouchable. A kaleidoscope turning quietly, my fractured colours cast by those nearby, quietly watching as they arrange me into meaning. The child never stopped spectating. She only grew taller behind the lens.
For @rfsmith.bsky.social
#PromptCombo
#Spectating from childhood and beyond.
Thanks for such an inspiring prompt.
#Spectacle and #Spectating... #PoemsAbout and #PromptCombo have mystically aligned, this week! 🤩
I, Oak Eye perhaps, gender fluid or, genderless. All I have is your gaze. Male or female. Call what you see, what you will. Make a guess. Remain steadfast in your convictions fail. History sees me as female and mad. Call me Full Cold Eye, Winter Eye, Wolf Eye, Full Long Nights Eye. A season to be glad. Burn Holly, Pine, Oak, Cedar and Ivy, wreaths as offerings to me that I may aid you in your convictions. Smoke blinded your imagination's creation play a rich part of your wishes, adopted I am whatever you wish me to be. You decide who or what you wish to see.
Hi Ronnie, Thank you for the awakening #promptcombo #spectating. My fourth one is another sonnet from my Red Ceilings Press collection 'Wolf Eye:'
The #poetrycommunity is still responding fascinatingly to the #PromptCombo theme #spectating Examples today include poets looking at themselves while looking and being looked at. And I'm very grateful that mine seems to have struck a contemporary chord. Many thanks for the kind likes and reposts 🙏🙏🙏
An overlay of my garden on the cliffs of Moher, which are in no way congruent IRL; but after all, that's why we are here 😀
on reflection ...
#PromptCombo #spectating #poem #poetry
