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I checked with Amazon Kindle Direct and my sales perked up a fair bit over the last week, so maybe those kindle countdown events work pretty well 🙂
I'm minded to do another one around the end of July / beginning of August to tie in with the #SealeyChallenge

#poetry

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image description: the poem "poetics" by robert browning. this poem reads:

"Poetics"

"So say the foolish!" Say the foolish so, Love?
"Flower she is, my rose"--or else, "My very swan is she"--
Or perhaps, "You maid-moon, blessing Earth below, Love,
That art thou!"--to then, belike: no such vain words 
from me."

"Hush, rose, blush! no balm like breath," I chide it:
"Bend thy neck its best, swan,--hers the whiter curve!"
Be the moon the moon: my Love I place beside it:
What is she? Her human self,-- o lower word will serve." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "poetics" by robert browning. this poem reads: "Poetics" "So say the foolish!" Say the foolish so, Love? "Flower she is, my rose"--or else, "My very swan is she"-- Or perhaps, "You maid-moon, blessing Earth below, Love, That art thou!"--to then, belike: no such vain words from me." "Hush, rose, blush! no balm like breath," I chide it: "Bend thy neck its best, swan,--hers the whiter curve!" Be the moon the moon: my Love I place beside it: What is she? Her human self,-- o lower word will serve." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 22: robert browning this time gives us a musing on writer's block, especially when one's favorite subject is their love, as well as providing a heartwarming message: nothing is comparable to the one you love's form.

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image description: the poem "now" by robert browning. the poem reads:

"Now"

"OUT of your whole life give but a moment!
All of your life that has gone before,
All to come after it,--so you ignore,
So you make perfect the present,--condense,
In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment,
Thought and feeling and soul and sense--
Merged in a moment that gives me at last
You around me for once, you beneath me, above me--
Me--sure despite of time future, time past,--
The tick of our life-time's one moment you love me!
How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet--
The moment eternal--just that and no more--
When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core
While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!" the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "now" by robert browning. the poem reads: "Now" "OUT of your whole life give but a moment! All of your life that has gone before, All to come after it,--so you ignore, So you make perfect the present,--condense, In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment, Thought and feeling and soul and sense-- Merged in a moment that gives me at last You around me for once, you beneath me, above me-- Me--sure despite of time future, time past,-- The tick of our life-time's one moment you love me! How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet-- The moment eternal--just that and no more-- When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!" the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 21: I love it when writers from eras deemed as "pure" and "academic" write the most blatant sex scenes. Robert browning gives us one of the most passionate sex scenes in a poem, second to only many Chinese female poets and "batter my heart, three person'd god"!

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image description: the poem "bad dreams" by robert browning. this poem reads:

"Bad Dreams"

"LAST night I saw you in my sleep:
And how your charm of face was changed!
I asked, "Some love, some faith you keep?"
You answered, "Faith gone, love estranged."

"Whereat I woke--a twofold bliss:
Waking was one, but next there came
This other: "Though I felt, for this,
My heart break, I loved on the same."
the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "bad dreams" by robert browning. this poem reads: "Bad Dreams" "LAST night I saw you in my sleep: And how your charm of face was changed! I asked, "Some love, some faith you keep?" You answered, "Faith gone, love estranged." "Whereat I woke--a twofold bliss: Waking was one, but next there came This other: "Though I felt, for this, My heart break, I loved on the same." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 20: another robert browning poem, "bad dreams" tells of heartbreak and loss of a relationship told only from the heartbreaking imagery a browning poet can accomplish.

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image description: the poem "speculative" by robert browning. the poem reads:

"Speculative"

"OTHERS may need new life in Heaven--
Man, Nature, Art--made new, assume!
Man with new mind old sense to leaven,
Nature,--new light to clear old gloom,
Art that breaks bounds, gets soaring-room."

"I shall pray: "Fugitive as precious--
Minutes which passed,--return, remain!
Let earth's old life once more enmesh us,
You with old pleasure, me--old pain,
So we but meet nor part again!" the poem ends there. end image description.

image description: the poem "speculative" by robert browning. the poem reads: "Speculative" "OTHERS may need new life in Heaven-- Man, Nature, Art--made new, assume! Man with new mind old sense to leaven, Nature,--new light to clear old gloom, Art that breaks bounds, gets soaring-room." "I shall pray: "Fugitive as precious-- Minutes which passed,--return, remain! Let earth's old life once more enmesh us, You with old pleasure, me--old pain, So we but meet nor part again!" the poem ends there. end image description.

#sealeychallenge late day 19: robert browning's "speculative" is another fantastic love poem of his that talks about the new life love brings in us all, with his typical themes: merging of the sexed body through love, renewal, and references to art. A classic through and through

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image description: the poem "a pearl, a girl" by robert browning. the text reads:

"A Pearl, a Girl"

"A SIMPLE ring with a single stone,
To the vulgar eye no stone of price:
Whisper the right word, that alone--
Forth starts a sprite, like fire from ice,
And lo, you are lord (says an Eastern scroll)
Of heaven and earth, lord whole and sole
Through the power in a pearl."

"A woman ('tis I this time that I say)
With little the world counts worthy praise
Utter the true word--out and away
Escapes her soul: I am wrapt in blaze,
Creation's lord, of heaven and earth
Lord whole and sole--by a minute's birth--
Through the love in a girl!" the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "a pearl, a girl" by robert browning. the text reads: "A Pearl, a Girl" "A SIMPLE ring with a single stone, To the vulgar eye no stone of price: Whisper the right word, that alone-- Forth starts a sprite, like fire from ice, And lo, you are lord (says an Eastern scroll) Of heaven and earth, lord whole and sole Through the power in a pearl." "A woman ('tis I this time that I say) With little the world counts worthy praise Utter the true word--out and away Escapes her soul: I am wrapt in blaze, Creation's lord, of heaven and earth Lord whole and sole--by a minute's birth-- Through the love in a girl!" the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 18: doing a bunch of robert browning poems starting from this! robert browning's "a pearl, a girl" uses the metaphor of a simple pearl as a metaphor for a simple woman who can be made beautiful from love. his love poems are very fascinating especially re: gender

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image description: the poem "young woman's neo-aramaic jewish persian blues" by an anonymous woman. this poem reads:

"would write a letter with 
              my scissors mouth
                                   (would say)
how you were once a big
                butter & egg man
                           just a beggar now
still I would kill
         myself for you
                     you in your soldier suit
be down to meet you
                         in a taxi
                                honey
God's up in heaven
                     he can get you
                               all that you need
the while your momma
                 dies from it
                         because you wouldn't 
let it just be
                            Jerome Rothenberg" 
the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "young woman's neo-aramaic jewish persian blues" by an anonymous woman. this poem reads: "would write a letter with my scissors mouth (would say) how you were once a big butter & egg man just a beggar now still I would kill myself for you you in your soldier suit be down to meet you in a taxi honey God's up in heaven he can get you all that you need the while your momma dies from it because you wouldn't let it just be Jerome Rothenberg" the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 17: the anonymous "young woman's neo-aramaic jewish persian blues" is a uniquely formatted poem with almost a modernist or postmodernist flair despite the poem being undated and mostly found in compilations. a fascinating play at language in translation.

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image description: the poem "a letter to her mother" by eristi-aya. this poem reads:
"A Letter to Her Mother"
"I am a king's daughter, you a king's wife.
I am furious!
Those tablets you and your husband used
to order me into this cloister,
let's forget them.
But remember this:
even warriors seized as booty in war
are treated humanely.
At least, treat me like them!
                                             WB"
the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "a letter to her mother" by eristi-aya. this poem reads: "A Letter to Her Mother" "I am a king's daughter, you a king's wife. I am furious! Those tablets you and your husband used to order me into this cloister, let's forget them. But remember this: even warriors seized as booty in war are treated humanely. At least, treat me like them! WB" the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 16: eristi-aya's poem "a letter to her mother" shows the human conditions during the akkadian empire, a time where likely willful women were cloistered into convents to get them to obey. eristi-aya's poem shows the cruelty of such punishments.

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image description: an untitled poem by honnamma. this portion of the poem reads: 
"Wasn't your mother a woman?
Who took care of you in your house,
a man?
Idiots!
Why do you vomit insults, screaming
"woman, woman!"
What special virtue is there in a son
or perdition in a daughter?
Here and in the other world, happiness" this portion of the poem ends there. end image description

image description: an untitled poem by honnamma. this portion of the poem reads: "Wasn't your mother a woman? Who took care of you in your house, a man? Idiots! Why do you vomit insults, screaming "woman, woman!" What special virtue is there in a son or perdition in a daughter? Here and in the other world, happiness" this portion of the poem ends there. end image description

image description: an untitled poem by honnamma. this portion of the poem reads: 
"comes to a person, not a gender.
A crude man is nothing.
A noble daughter is blessed forever." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: an untitled poem by honnamma. this portion of the poem reads: "comes to a person, not a gender. A crude man is nothing. A noble daughter is blessed forever." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 15: this unnamed poem by honnamma very clearly outlines strong proto feminist ideals, showing both the harsh misogyny against women in India at the time and the ideals that humanity should be decided on characteristics and nobility, not sex and gender.

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image description: the poem "the unknown citizen" by w.h. auden. the poem reads:

"W.H. Auden"

"The Unknown Citizen" 

"(To JS/07/M/378
This Marble Monument
Is Erected by the State)" 

"He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned world, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way. 
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows that he was once in a hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation,
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "the unknown citizen" by w.h. auden. the poem reads: "W.H. Auden" "The Unknown Citizen" "(To JS/07/M/378 This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State)" "He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be One against whom there was no official complaint, And all reports on his conduct agree That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned world, he was a saint, For in everything he did he served the Greater Community. Except for the War till the day he retired He worked in a factory and never got fired, But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc. Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views, For his Union reports that he paid his dues, (Our report on his Union shows it was sound) And our Social Psychology workers found That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink. The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way. Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured, And his Health-card shows that he was once in a hospital but left it cured. Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan And had everything necessary to the Modern Man, A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire. Our researchers into Public Opinion are content That he held the proper opinions for the time of year; When there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went. He was married and added five children to the population, Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation, And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd: Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 14: w.h. auden's "the unknown citizen" is a harsh critique of eugenics and how even the most "ideal" human being can have the deepest depths of depression and society just wouldn't know. it's a poem that would certainly belong today

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image description: the poem "cento for autistic poets whose words offer a map of possibility when my words are lost" by derek yen. the background is a light lavender. this portion of the poem reads:

"Derek Yen"

"Cento For Autistic Poets Whose Words Offer a Map of Possibility When My Words Are Lost"

"I wish I could write poems where the poem's 
alive marched,
hands in the dirt, head in the sun --
Listen, a godsong is in the bees.
Each seed is a portal the shape of your before
and after.

Invariably, the sun invades:
there's cause and effect and there's a simple
lusting real ludicrous idea
that there is only one ideal way to be which we
should all strive for." this portion of the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "cento for autistic poets whose words offer a map of possibility when my words are lost" by derek yen. the background is a light lavender. this portion of the poem reads: "Derek Yen" "Cento For Autistic Poets Whose Words Offer a Map of Possibility When My Words Are Lost" "I wish I could write poems where the poem's alive marched, hands in the dirt, head in the sun -- Listen, a godsong is in the bees. Each seed is a portal the shape of your before and after. Invariably, the sun invades: there's cause and effect and there's a simple lusting real ludicrous idea that there is only one ideal way to be which we should all strive for." this portion of the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "cento for autistic poets whose words offer a map of possibility when my words are lost" by derek yen. the background is a light lavender. this portion of the poem reads:

"They say each poem's an engine w/ an animal heart.
Wholed by a light at the snuff of your day,
autistic. Please love poets we are the first
who do not yield to their authority.

What is the meaning of a mountain of masks?
Any other face is fed to the waves that brought you." this poem ends here.

in italics, the epilogue of the poem reads:

"This poem is made up of lines borrowed from (in order of appearance): Jane Shi, J.D. Harlock, Jaia Hamid Bashir, Shel Moring, DJ Savarese, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Adam Wolfond, Troels Steenholdt Heiredal, torrin a. greathouse, Cyrée Jarelle Johnson, Hannah Emerson, Tiezst Taylor, Lauren Russell, and Leslie McIntosh." end image description

image description: the poem "cento for autistic poets whose words offer a map of possibility when my words are lost" by derek yen. the background is a light lavender. this portion of the poem reads: "They say each poem's an engine w/ an animal heart. Wholed by a light at the snuff of your day, autistic. Please love poets we are the first who do not yield to their authority. What is the meaning of a mountain of masks? Any other face is fed to the waves that brought you." this poem ends here. in italics, the epilogue of the poem reads: "This poem is made up of lines borrowed from (in order of appearance): Jane Shi, J.D. Harlock, Jaia Hamid Bashir, Shel Moring, DJ Savarese, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Adam Wolfond, Troels Steenholdt Heiredal, torrin a. greathouse, Cyrée Jarelle Johnson, Hannah Emerson, Tiezst Taylor, Lauren Russell, and Leslie McIntosh." end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 13: "cento for autistic poets whose words offer a map of possibility when my words are lost" by derek yen is a poem utilizing a poetic form i had not seen often in my lifetime (a cento) and now wish to utilize more often. poetry is often patchwork, and its better that way.

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image description: the poem "an uncle's fable for consent" by nate marshall. the poem reads:

"an uncle's fable for consent"

"i'm trying to find language to talk about these things.
--Aja Monet"

"check it out nephew
what it be like is this:
you ever touch the open palm
of a cold iron? best shit
you could put on the soft 
side of your face, like sweet
jesus kissing you on the cheek.
but you gotta check anything
you aim to touch beforehand 
otherwise you might end up
messed up. & the messed up
thing about the burn is you don't 
feel it at first. the body shock
itself into apathy but after that
it sting & smooth & bubble &
break open & grow back nasty enough
to ugly up a baby face mother fucked.
that's a kid of scar you keep
& the thing about it is even after you don't 
feel it everybody see it and you do
once your simple ass look in a mirror." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "an uncle's fable for consent" by nate marshall. the poem reads: "an uncle's fable for consent" "i'm trying to find language to talk about these things. --Aja Monet" "check it out nephew what it be like is this: you ever touch the open palm of a cold iron? best shit you could put on the soft side of your face, like sweet jesus kissing you on the cheek. but you gotta check anything you aim to touch beforehand otherwise you might end up messed up. & the messed up thing about the burn is you don't feel it at first. the body shock itself into apathy but after that it sting & smooth & bubble & break open & grow back nasty enough to ugly up a baby face mother fucked. that's a kid of scar you keep & the thing about it is even after you don't feel it everybody see it and you do once your simple ass look in a mirror." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 12: once again, another stellar nate marshall poem about masculinity and the trauma men suffer due to sexual assault going unaddressed. this is a common theme in finna, and one of the main themes, aside from black masculinity and generational trauma, present in this book

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image description: the poem "the homies ask if i'm tryna smash" by nate marshall. the poem reads:

"our language for sex:

"stain                                                  smash"
    "this is where we live
     a land of impact and soiling,
     a gaggle of boys boasting
     over hurt. our tongues
     wagging, stupid flags
     of a dumb dominion. our love
     for each other measured 
bang  in what we lord over. we poor 
           beat timekeepers, consider our preposition here.
     bros before _______.
     we anti-historians. we unmakers of ourselves.
     we failures of science and courage.
     we ugly. we ugly. we ugly.
     we a bankrupt vernacular,
     a slang as prophecy,
     a linguistic imperative towards 
     pain.

hit                                                       pound" 

the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "the homies ask if i'm tryna smash" by nate marshall. the poem reads: "our language for sex: "stain smash" "this is where we live a land of impact and soiling, a gaggle of boys boasting over hurt. our tongues wagging, stupid flags of a dumb dominion. our love for each other measured bang in what we lord over. we poor beat timekeepers, consider our preposition here. bros before _______. we anti-historians. we unmakers of ourselves. we failures of science and courage. we ugly. we ugly. we ugly. we a bankrupt vernacular, a slang as prophecy, a linguistic imperative towards pain. hit pound" the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 11: nate marshall knocks it out of the park again with "the homies ask if i'm tryna smash", a poem about the ugliness of desire, intertwined with the ugliness of misogyny. marshall interweaves slang words used for sex with a mediation on cis male sexuality and delivers

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image description: the poem "my sexual identity is a toaster in a bath tub" by c. russell price. this portion of the poem reads:

"My Sexual Identity Is A Toaster In A Bath Tub" 

"In the last heather field,
I keep sane with pop sugar:
I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
can't understand what I mean//you soon will.
I have the tendency to wear my mind on my sleeves,
I have a history of taking of my shirt
and I say and I sing
lines I never loved
the first go around, but everything's sore,
I've made myself a siren too often.
If somebody heard me and loved me:
they would have told me by now.
Love, I'm squalling about your nose
tomorrow when I reach what's left
of Texarkana. It's been 888 nights
since I finally left the house
we could never afford. Your dead body is 
seven cities away and that house:
all Mr. Blue Sky shingle crowned burned down.
How? Let's say -- why save something
that never felt your footsteps?
I'm living in this constant museum,
this world of Why-I-Miss-Yous,
my beard a half halo of lavender
an everyday red-faced-soundscape". this portion of the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "my sexual identity is a toaster in a bath tub" by c. russell price. this portion of the poem reads: "My Sexual Identity Is A Toaster In A Bath Tub" "In the last heather field, I keep sane with pop sugar: I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral can't understand what I mean//you soon will. I have the tendency to wear my mind on my sleeves, I have a history of taking of my shirt and I say and I sing lines I never loved the first go around, but everything's sore, I've made myself a siren too often. If somebody heard me and loved me: they would have told me by now. Love, I'm squalling about your nose tomorrow when I reach what's left of Texarkana. It's been 888 nights since I finally left the house we could never afford. Your dead body is seven cities away and that house: all Mr. Blue Sky shingle crowned burned down. How? Let's say -- why save something that never felt your footsteps? I'm living in this constant museum, this world of Why-I-Miss-Yous, my beard a half halo of lavender an everyday red-faced-soundscape". this portion of the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "my sexual identity is a toaster in a bath tub" by c. russell price. this portion of the poem reads:

"of what's left and what else is left.
If something like you still walked upright,
he'd find me on this last single patch of parakeet green,
and shaking me, he would stop
the sleep-singing, the coo of "I've got so much honey,
the bees envy me." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "my sexual identity is a toaster in a bath tub" by c. russell price. this portion of the poem reads: "of what's left and what else is left. If something like you still walked upright, he'd find me on this last single patch of parakeet green, and shaking me, he would stop the sleep-singing, the coo of "I've got so much honey, the bees envy me." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 10: "my sexual identity is a toaster in a bath tub" by c. russell price tells of a borderline suicidal, self sabotaging sexuality in the face of intimacy, past, present, and future. the interpolation of "one week" by barenaked ladies is clever and almost postmodern, i think

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image description: the poem "i decide to tell ghost cowboy my intentions" by c. russell price. the poem reads:

"I Decide to Tell Ghost Cowboy My Intentions"

"C. Russell Price"

"I'm writing
a love poem
even with 
an American
boot to
my throat.

I lick the croony
sole and picture
you in a fresh 
wife pleaser.

You got
two fingers
dripping money
down my mouth.

Our razor
can do
so much." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "i decide to tell ghost cowboy my intentions" by c. russell price. the poem reads: "I Decide to Tell Ghost Cowboy My Intentions" "C. Russell Price" "I'm writing a love poem even with an American boot to my throat. I lick the croony sole and picture you in a fresh wife pleaser. You got two fingers dripping money down my mouth. Our razor can do so much." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 9: at the start of the poem "i decide to tell ghost cowboy my intentions", i am already struck by the intense and powerful imagery. with the context of the poet being genderqueer, the line "i'm writing a love poem even with an american boot to my throat" takes a new meaning

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image description: a photo of "finna" by nate marshall held sideways. the poem reads:

"landless acknowledgement"

"before we get started we would like to acknowledge that we live on some unceded bones. sometimes me & mine imagine ancestral homes. all i got so far is Montgomery, Alabama. maybe a boat. maybe a plot of land so far from the south sides i've claimed that i would get lost on the way. i admit sometimes my homies talk about their families immigrating & i get jealous. we lost the land we were custodians over before i was a twinkle in the eye of a twinkle in the eye of a twinkle in the eye. closest i got to a home-land is my mama's caucasian pitch on the phone calling the police. closest i got to a homeland is not never calling the police. closest i got to a homeland is my daddy's laugh in a spades game. closest i got to a homeland is my lover's tongue talking or otherwise. closest i got to a homeland is the funk under a DJ's needle & my hand full of a dance partner. not to be dark but i am. not to be dark but the planet is on fire. not to be dark but they moving capitals because the water is coming up. not to be dark but our bones are in that water too. maybe that's my capital? once the polar capitals melt & there's a whole lot less land for folks to buy & sell & steal maybe everybody will feel a little more dark. will feel a little more homelandless like we do. why do you think i call my compatriots homies? maybe ain't no home except for how your beloveds cuss or pray or pronounce." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: a photo of "finna" by nate marshall held sideways. the poem reads: "landless acknowledgement" "before we get started we would like to acknowledge that we live on some unceded bones. sometimes me & mine imagine ancestral homes. all i got so far is Montgomery, Alabama. maybe a boat. maybe a plot of land so far from the south sides i've claimed that i would get lost on the way. i admit sometimes my homies talk about their families immigrating & i get jealous. we lost the land we were custodians over before i was a twinkle in the eye of a twinkle in the eye of a twinkle in the eye. closest i got to a home-land is my mama's caucasian pitch on the phone calling the police. closest i got to a homeland is not never calling the police. closest i got to a homeland is my daddy's laugh in a spades game. closest i got to a homeland is my lover's tongue talking or otherwise. closest i got to a homeland is the funk under a DJ's needle & my hand full of a dance partner. not to be dark but i am. not to be dark but the planet is on fire. not to be dark but they moving capitals because the water is coming up. not to be dark but our bones are in that water too. maybe that's my capital? once the polar capitals melt & there's a whole lot less land for folks to buy & sell & steal maybe everybody will feel a little more dark. will feel a little more homelandless like we do. why do you think i call my compatriots homies? maybe ain't no home except for how your beloveds cuss or pray or pronounce." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 8: "landless acknowledgement" by nate marshall takes the common use of a land acknowledgement in many progressive fiction and poetry and uses it to state that, like many black people he knows, he is landless and becoming landless through climate change. powerful.

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image description: a portion of the poem "nige-mizu" by touson shimazaki translated into english. black text on yellow background reads: 

"Nige-Mizu"
"(from Young Herbs)"

"As twilight settles on the grass
I pause, and so it seems,
am overcome a while and pass
into a world of dreams.

And soon the tears begin to flow. 
I stand around the flowers;
a lover, you alone can know
the secret that is ours.

I think of how our love has fared.
Our love is sinful, yes." this portion of the poem ends here. end image description

image description: a portion of the poem "nige-mizu" by touson shimazaki translated into english. black text on yellow background reads: "Nige-Mizu" "(from Young Herbs)" "As twilight settles on the grass I pause, and so it seems, am overcome a while and pass into a world of dreams. And soon the tears begin to flow. I stand around the flowers; a lover, you alone can know the secret that is ours. I think of how our love has fared. Our love is sinful, yes." this portion of the poem ends here. end image description

image description: a portion of the poem "nige-mizu" by touson shimazaki translated into english. black text on yellow background reads: 

"And yet the dangers that we dared
were lovely, nonetheless.

It comes to this: by work and prayer,
by prayer and work to win
release from guilt and worldly care;
forgiveness for my sin.

And one day, hand in hand at last,
we'll gladly walk ahead,
however threatening the mist,
however dark the dread." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: a portion of the poem "nige-mizu" by touson shimazaki translated into english. black text on yellow background reads: "And yet the dangers that we dared were lovely, nonetheless. It comes to this: by work and prayer, by prayer and work to win release from guilt and worldly care; forgiveness for my sin. And one day, hand in hand at last, we'll gladly walk ahead, however threatening the mist, however dark the dread." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 7: touson shimazaki's "nige-mizu" is .a parody of a hymn by phoebe brown and an expression that feels genuine in a fear that one's love for another person is inherently sinful, that one's desires make them broken. i know how this feels and that's why i resonate with it

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image description: the poem "medusa" by louise bogan. the poem reads:

"Medusa"

"Louise Bogan" "1897-1970"

"I had come to the house, in a cave of trees,
Facing a sheer sky.
Everything moved,--a bell hung ready to strike,
Sun and reflection wheeled by.

When the bare eyes were before me
And the hissing hair,
Held up at a window, seen through a door.
The stiff bald eyes, the serpents on the forehead
Formed in the air.

This is a dead scene forever now. 
Nothing will ever stir.
The end will never brighten it more than this,
Nor the rain blur.

The water will always fall, and will not fall,
And the tipped bell make no sound.
The grass will always be growing for hay
Deep on the ground.

And I shall stand here like a shadow
Under the great balanced day,
My eyes on the yellow dust, that was lifting in the wind,
And does not drift away." the poem ends there.

below the poem reads "This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on July 14, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets." end image description

image description: the poem "medusa" by louise bogan. the poem reads: "Medusa" "Louise Bogan" "1897-1970" "I had come to the house, in a cave of trees, Facing a sheer sky. Everything moved,--a bell hung ready to strike, Sun and reflection wheeled by. When the bare eyes were before me And the hissing hair, Held up at a window, seen through a door. The stiff bald eyes, the serpents on the forehead Formed in the air. This is a dead scene forever now. Nothing will ever stir. The end will never brighten it more than this, Nor the rain blur. The water will always fall, and will not fall, And the tipped bell make no sound. The grass will always be growing for hay Deep on the ground. And I shall stand here like a shadow Under the great balanced day, My eyes on the yellow dust, that was lifting in the wind, And does not drift away." the poem ends there. below the poem reads "This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on July 14, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets." end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 6: yet another fascinating louise bogan poem, medusa tells of a horrific scene where a speaker of unknown gender comes to the mouth of a cave and is frozen by medusa herself. the attention to word choice really amps up the horror, which bogan is really good at conveying.

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image description: the poem "cassandra" by louise bogan. the poem has a blue volume up icon and a blue "about" icon beside it. the poem is black text on white background. the poem reads:

"Cassandra"

"To me, one silly task is like another.
I bare the shambling tricks of lust and pride.
This flesh will never give a child its mother,
Song, like a wing, tears through my breast, my side,
And madness chooses out my voice again,
Again. I am the chosen no hand saves:
The shrieking heaven lifted over men,
Not the dumb earth, wherein they set their graves." the poem ends there. below reads:

"This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on October 12, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets." the text ends there. end image description.

image description: the poem "cassandra" by louise bogan. the poem has a blue volume up icon and a blue "about" icon beside it. the poem is black text on white background. the poem reads: "Cassandra" "To me, one silly task is like another. I bare the shambling tricks of lust and pride. This flesh will never give a child its mother, Song, like a wing, tears through my breast, my side, And madness chooses out my voice again, Again. I am the chosen no hand saves: The shrieking heaven lifted over men, Not the dumb earth, wherein they set their graves." the poem ends there. below reads: "This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on October 12, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets." the text ends there. end image description.

#sealeychallenge late day 5: louise bogan is yet another wonderful poet i've found on poets.org. her poem, cassandra, tells of a woman who is mentally ill, troubled, and likely infertile or even transfeminine, and feels unable to be saved. a good text to read with umineko! (you'll Know)

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image description: the poem "drinking wine (1)" by t'ao ch'ien, translated by arthur sze. the poem reads:

"T'AO CH'IEN"

"Drinking Wine (1)"

"A green pine is in the east garden,
but the many grasses obscure it.
A frost wipes out all the other species,
and then I see its magnificent tall
branches.
In a forest men do not notice it, but
standing alone, it is a miracle.
I hang a jug of wine on a cold branch;
then stand back, and look again and
again.
My life spins with dreams and
illusions.
Why then be fastened to the world?" the poem ends there. end image description

image description: the poem "drinking wine (1)" by t'ao ch'ien, translated by arthur sze. the poem reads: "T'AO CH'IEN" "Drinking Wine (1)" "A green pine is in the east garden, but the many grasses obscure it. A frost wipes out all the other species, and then I see its magnificent tall branches. In a forest men do not notice it, but standing alone, it is a miracle. I hang a jug of wine on a cold branch; then stand back, and look again and again. My life spins with dreams and illusions. Why then be fastened to the world?" the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 4: "drinking wine" by t'ao ch'ien is a wonderful poem about noticing the small things in life and realizing that your life may be no bigger than a tree, and reveling in it anyway. It's beautiful, serene, and filled with such peaceful yet passionate emotion.

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image description: text from biblegateway of the psalm "how long, o lord? to the choirmaster. a psalm of david" by david of the bible. the text reads:

"How Long, O Lord?

To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David."

"How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
lest my enemy say "I have prevailed over him,"
lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me." the poem ends there. end image description

image description: text from biblegateway of the psalm "how long, o lord? to the choirmaster. a psalm of david" by david of the bible. the text reads: "How Long, O Lord? To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David." "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say "I have prevailed over him," lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken. But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me." the poem ends there. end image description

#sealeychallenge late day 3: "how long, o lord? to the choirmaster. a psalm of david", likely written by the biblical david, is a beautiful poem found within the bible that keeps me going in times of turmoil. the esv translation has some beautiful word choices i prefer over the amplified version <3

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Signing off for some much-needed rest 😴💤 but keeping the spirit of poetry alive!

Thank you to everyone who read, posted, shared, and engaged with poetry this August!

We’ll see you same time next year for the next #SealeyChallenge!

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The Sealey Challenge & an Invitation to Read Living Poets Each August, the Sealey Challenge invites readers to explore one book of poetry each day of the month. The most determined will read 31 books of poetry to satisfy the challenge. While I enjoy struc…

As my #SealeyChallenge concludes the real revelation: the intimacy, the vulnerability, the pure access that poetry offers to people, experiences, ideas, ways of living that I would never be able to connect with ordinarily. #BlueSky #ReadLivingPoets

alisontcucchetti.wordpress.com/2025/09/04/t...

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2025 Sealey Challenge Survey The Sealey Challenge has been an informal month-long poetic challenge since 2017, and we're curious to learn more about the experience of those who have participated. Please complete the survey below...

How much poetry have we read together for the #sealeychallenge? Let's find out!

forms.gle/fGpW8mzCirKa...

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Updated!
#SealeyChallenge
#PoetrySky
#UKPoets

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I managed 17/31 poetry reads in August!
A wonderful immersion into contemporary work.
I love poetry but too often in this frantic environment I find myself reading poems via social media / email newsletters etc rather than engaging with a book or pamphlet. #SealeyChallenge. #PoetrySky #UKPoets

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Ban en Banlieue by Bhanu Kapil
The Book Eaters by Caroline Hotchandani
Underworld Lit by Srikanth Reddy
For in Your Tongue I Cannot Fit ed Shilpa Gupta, Salil Tripathi 
Migritude by Shailja Patel
States of the Body Produced by Love by Nisha Ramayya 
Us by Zaffar Kunial
Bring Now the Angels by Dilruba Ahmed

Ban en Banlieue by Bhanu Kapil The Book Eaters by Caroline Hotchandani Underworld Lit by Srikanth Reddy For in Your Tongue I Cannot Fit ed Shilpa Gupta, Salil Tripathi Migritude by Shailja Patel States of the Body Produced by Love by Nisha Ramayya Us by Zaffar Kunial Bring Now the Angels by Dilruba Ahmed

And finally for completeness, books I read earlier in August
(These were mostly rereads - favourite poetry books I wanted to revisit and read in depth)

#SealeyChallenge
#poetrysky
#UKPoets

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Nature Matters: Vital Poems from the Global Majority ed Mona Arshi & Karen McCarthy Woolf
festival by Mia You
Mouth by Mona Arshi

Nature Matters: Vital Poems from the Global Majority ed Mona Arshi & Karen McCarthy Woolf festival by Mia You Mouth by Mona Arshi

Next, incredible collections by Mia You & Mona Arshi plus an amazing anthology:
#SealeyChallenge #PoetrySky #UKPoets

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Poems from the Archives (Poetry vs Colonialism)
Maths Poems (Small Press)
Lobe (Cia Mangat)
Notes on Burials (Jayant Kashyap)
Offworld (Kirsten Luckins)
Be my Next Inspiration (Spread the Word)

Poems from the Archives (Poetry vs Colonialism) Maths Poems (Small Press) Lobe (Cia Mangat) Notes on Burials (Jayant Kashyap) Offworld (Kirsten Luckins) Be my Next Inspiration (Spread the Word)

Life happened & I did not get round to posting the rest of my #SealeyChallenge reads during August BUT I didn’t stop reading!
Here’s a few catch up pics of all (I think?) the poetry I read late August to early September:
First, some great pamphlets (titles/authors in alt)
#poetrysky #ukpoets

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You did it! Cheers to a wonderful month of reading poetry!

Don’t forget to claim your golden sealies + #SealeyChallenge postcards for a job well done! (Psst perfection isn't a requirement)

forms.gle/N9735imfCHq6...

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