Latest posts tagged with #Spent on Bluesky
I'm #exhausted #spent w/health&crippling conditions #depart #day #Time #sifting #SensoryArt w/ #favorite #representation #hands #hourglass #fingers #sand #EastCoastKin #ArtYear #symbolism #WindowsOnWednesday #NaturalLight #backlit #mood #PhotographersOfBluesky #PhotographersUnited #WestCoastKin #art
If you're headed to Tesco,
please pick up a case of Irn-Bru.
If you hold any moral grievances against this,
I will gladly accept Fanta Orange.
And if you haven't #spent above your budget,
I've been yomping for a bag of Haribo.
#poemsabout #spent #tesco #poetry #poem #writing
The Fall of the House Across the Street from the House of Usher Dale Tudge It was assessed at fourteen thousand dollars before the fall — I shall not say whose fall, for falls there had been several, and the distinctions between them grew fewer with each passing quarter. The value fell first. Then the foundations. Then more value. The county surveyor, arriving in Wellington boots and departing without them — the tarn, he said, had claimed them, settling the question of ownership — attributed the subsidence to prolonged saturation. The water, he reported, had enlarged itself across both properties since the late unpleasantness. He diagnosed the condition as Loss of Structural Integrity — the selfsame phrase, I was told, employed by the coroner, though in reference to a different kind of resident. No — the coroner resided not across the street but in Charlottesville, some four miles distant, and I mention this only because the proximity of that family had already been credited with enough. The gutters had since followed. The fall of my credit, which I had believed immovable, began as what the bank described as "a correction," by which they meant a descent, by which I mean a plunge into conditions I had not thought possible for a man who had never once been late with a payment. The Farmers Bank of Virginia had not yet asked me to return the 1839 almanac they presented at Michaelmas with my name stamped upon the cover, which I chose to interpret as reassurance. The almanac told me nothing it had not already told the Ushers.
I am #spent. My allowance is #spent.
I leave it to the @bsky.app #readers to decide if this #gothic #horror story is worth their time, and the spending of it.
#poem #poetry #prose #writing #emoetry #microfiction #inkmine #poemsabout #vss365
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
spent from being mistaken. the space returns to quiet. no performance in it.
For this week's #PoemsAbout #Spent, I'm thinking about how things feel. And posting late.
Thank you to the host @alanparrywriter.co.uk and
@thebrokenspine.co.uk and to all of the other writers.
#poetry #poem #writing #PoetryCommunity #BlueSkyPoets #writingcommunity
#poemsabout #spent
I'm a day late, I think. Because, well, yesterday I was #spent. But here's how it finally seeped out during the late late hours.
Poem written and copyright (c) by Eric Montgomery (@madp03t.bsky.social). All Rights Reserved. Window open, rain in the dark. My hand low at your spine, slow, certain. Hours dissolving, spent in the press of skin. Sheets twisted beneath our hips. Thigh to thigh, you laid there, watching me unravel.
#laid
#poem
#spent
#poetry
#writing
#prompt
#poetrylovers
#poemsabout
#poetryprompt
#5amwritersclub
#freeversefebruary
#poetrycommunity
#writingcommunity
@daveashleypoet.bsky.social
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
I couldn't come up with a new #poem for #poemsabout #spent this time. I dug around my older posts and diaries for things that could use new life. This was part of a would-be modern retelling of Dante's Inferno... sort of, the concept needs work, lol. Enjoy.
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#poetry #skypoetry
Andy, the repetition of words actually moves the reader along slowly, quietly, like walking down a staircase. And the repetition lends itself to the theme #spent quite effectively! Well done!❤️
Hello #PoemsAbout friends. I caught the prompt too late this week to write something new, so I went back to the archives. This one is from 1994 for #Spent
@thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk
#poetrycommunity #poetry #poems #blueskypoets #blueskypoetry
sidewalk sailor sways
through doorways of rejection
rising tide spent
#poetry #micropoetry #senryu #poemsabout #spent
I’ve gone and done it again. What can I say, #PedroPascal does that to me. Xoxo
#PoemsAbout #Spent
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
Photo of the inside of a nightclub with people's dancing hands silhouetted holding drink and cigarettes. Overlaid with a poem in orange letters: nightlife I lie on the pavement no spirit left to me I left it all – in the dark where the light drips off the glitter ball in the furnace of weekend bodies heat-seeking parts in the thud of relentlessly irresistible beats I gave it my all I shed I moved and shook and ground consumed every bit drunk to the dregs of the night – and here I am spent and here I am stupid and happy
Love ending a crazy busy week with a nice little #PoemsAbout hookup. And enjoyed the #Spent prompt. Happy Friday/weekend poets! 💜
@thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk
The Avocado Covenant A sale isn’t about what you spend. It’s about what you save. This is a principle you apply when you purchase twelve avocados at 50p each from Tesco, saving 39p per avocado, or £4.68 total, or roughly the cost of not having twelve avocados. Certainly, they’ll bruise in the bag, blacken in the bowl, and ripen all at once next Thursday, because that’s the avocado covenant. They’ll go hard, go soft, or go sentient—because one avocado is responsible for teaching the covenant to the others. Toast handles three avocados if you’re committed. Guacamole, one or two more. Avocado pudding could handle one or two, assuming one is brave enough to google a recipe for avocado pudding and braver still to serve it. (Everything is pudding if you will it to be.) That’s seven. Possibly eight. The maths was working a moment ago. The remaining avocados (minus the one that went back to Tesco to spread the avocado gospel), are passed on to friends, along with most of what you saved. (ap·dt) — @daletudgehumor
And then there was the time I bought a tub of nearly-gone-off Tabouleh from Harrods Food Hall at a savings of 40%, which I promptly reinvested in a gold lacquered box filled with Persian saffron.
#poem #poetry #prose #writing #emoetry #microfiction #inkmine
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#PoemsAbout #Spent
Spiral Haze I remember The reasons I Could dismember My heart but I.... didn't.... I spent all... My own downfall— Heart cannot call Upon itself...to calm down... I spent my days Ruminating the what mays, I splattered paint Though I'm no saint... I can't forgive... My nodes and anodes Could connect the dots And find what bodes ... in me For someone like me Doesn't have much to be— An anomaly.... I'm too weak, splatter Myself and spend my days Regretting things... As though I'm reaching for something to say that I'm pure....
My entry for #PoemsAbout #Spent
The aftermath of regret...
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
#poetry
Copse Sunset Knew a sunset once… more an unbroken bronchial cough, struggling wheezy to get past trees, its light all tired, sticky and discoloured: a despairing exhalation through tobacco-stained fingers. Some regretful handkerchief of clouds, over-blown, filled with spent yellowish browns; such an unlikelihood that sickened, seeping dome would rise again in the morning. Above and all around: a heartfelt practising of the many varied, eulogies from the seated, weeping, birds.
Hullo. But late to the party today so have to rely on an old one. Cheers
@brokenspinejournal.bsky.social @alanparrywriter.co.uk #poemsabout #spent #poetry
Right. I’m back on the case for #PoemsAbout #Spent Thanks for the generous comments about my simple piece today with the ‘spot the obvious mistake’ which I didn’t at 5am. Hit me up with #Poetry
Selfless // Spent You lie beside him like a gutted animal. This needy. This vulnerable. This far gone. Nothing is as exhausting as opening up, as making a church of the mess of yourself, as becoming a light for another. Ribcage and sanctuary. Shepherding the wayward sheep back from the storm-clad edge. Him and you both. Homebound. You wanted so much to be a morning star but you’re just the flick of his lighter with which he immolates you. You define your worth by how satisfied the hunter is, how easy the bullet’s job. How small can you make yourself so you’re not in his way, how fast can you do what he wants. Now he has rearranged your entrails to fit more pain inside. But you agree and carry it even like a crown. Anything, everything to make him stay; you are out there and dying just reaching for his hand. Afterwards, you sob silently behind the bathroom door as if your sadness was a great secret, something so dangerous and feral, you have to keep it hidden and leashed. Or, worse even, you would be found out, exposed for the wretched hollow bitch that you are, a martyr no angel would want. All you have to offer is the bones of yourself and isn’t that terrible, to be so thoroughly you? All that you are and were and aspired to be, you have given everything to him. The myrrh of ruptured spleens and breathless lungs, the hard gold of marrow. Incense of spit, myth told in freckles and stretch marks, stuttering. All your unspeakable stories spelled out scar by never-healed scar. And yet, he will get up and walk through that door. And leave, like you’ve never ever happened. You showed off your best tricks but you’re still just a dog. Your hot tears tangle helplessly in his wet hair like an army of startled fleas. You stand on the train station platform as it snows. He kisses you goodbye and it’s like drowning a puppy. Your teeth clash like barbed wire fences. He says see you soon and in that moment you know that there is nothing more cruel …
For #PoemsAbout #Spent ✨
for @thebrokenspine.co.uk
& @alanparrywriter.co.uk
When you give everything you have but it still isn’t enough.
A poem about the feeling of being spent after a night of making love and the feelings that come after the it is over.
For #PoemsAbout #Spent
with much thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk
Spent When we are spent and cannot stir again The fire extinguished, bodies cooling down All senses sated, pulse and breathing stilled The fruit of our potential shall not lie To perish by some prophylactic dam It will transcend beyond this mundane realm As our abandoned husks return to dust We shall depart without a backward glance Our essences combining as we leave To join the others who have gone ahead In light the like of which we’ve never seen We’ll grasp at last the truth we had forgot The sum is always greater than the parts And love is so much greater than ourselves
#Spent too much time reading classical stuff lately
So this week's #PoemsAbout came out as a sonnet
#PoemsAbout
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#ItWillDo
#Spent
They watch the match burn down
pegged to separate seasons,
The one burgeoning, nest building, bright bud of a primrose.
The other, still shackled to winter,
Exhausted.
Poem: Thoughts While Walking After the Death of My Sister Here comes the glowering sky—again sapphire to slate, no snow bells, only flakes pristine pretty for a sec-- but we’re over it, even the clouds seem spent, the planet is pooped, the predators still free, the privileged plutocrats swollen with greed—buying bodies, buildings, bullets, bullion as girls grown to womanhood wait for justice. I’m exhausted—this winter, this world— where despite everything, birds are starting to sing the future, blueberry skies, popcorn clouds, blossom-blizzards in pink and white. I look up at a chittering murmuration, watch as the starlings constellate, coordinate, conjoin, unite-- realize they’ve answered the questions I didn’t ask, not why. When.
Good morning! Some people know my older sister died on Monday. I didn't participate last week. It was a long week. I'll come back later to read this week's poems for #PoemsAbout #Spent Thank you as always to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk for providing this poetry platform.
∴ and i am it and faith until all fracture is fact Pollux, orbital-twinned, this self-shell sloughing stay we splintered, stay this split / ter ing spentlight leans, done with its leaning tatters of over-meddled mettle stuff'd with will-broke break / le things ciphered, ruptures rumbling sum writ upon my crackle / cant under ember, ember under r’mbr’ng slow, more slow, more low toes buried where whoknows goes starsun shine on skullsoil rift-rifted, i rattle-rack ad terminum velocitatis the light loosening
#vss365 #velocity
#promptcombo #rupture @victoriaspires.bsky.social
#poemsabout #spent @thebrokenspine.co.uk
#anatta
Good morning #BlueSkyPoets! #PoemsAbout #Spent
@thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk
I took the traditional sonnet and tweaked the form to create a List Sonnet, I hope you enjoy! Excited to read your poetic creations!
#poemsabout #spent
Spent
Thoughts scribbled down hurriedly,
before they escape.
Rearranged lovingly.
Poetry emerges.
Time well spent.
Spent lies spoken with a smirk so confident I see you clearly the mist of love blown away I am spent I am spent emptied out my love for you has shriveled and died walking away victory in my eyes
Waste He spent his life pleasing others, spent his money pleasing others, in the end, when only the ending mattered, he spent his last day alone.
After a small break, here is my return piece for #PoemsAbout #Spent.
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
Will be catching up later/over weekend
an argument i we had been arguing for a while probably most of the evening about what you don’t need to know but neither of us were right neither entirely wrong i can not do this any more she said and bear in mind english was not her first language she threw herself back into the lumpy sofa legs splayed dramatic guttural sigh and she said i’m spent i laughed first then she laughed too tipped off to some missed context by my comically raised eyebrows and later after i’d explained the lurid connotations of the word we both laughed together ii i must admit that scene never happened the woman whose first language was not english a fiction i can’t even muster up a hair colour for her i’m a fiction too because if i’d argued with someone for most of an evening that evening would be done over sexual innuendo or not this would be a better poem if the incident had happened though i think that i would be a worse writer
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#PoemsAbout #Spent
After the room is still the air heavy the floor damp with rain now the storm has ebbed away but you you sit with me you you hold my hand saying nothing just here here
Nice to be able to post a quick little poem for #poemsabout #spent after a bit of an enforced absence last week (bad cold). Thanks @alanparrywriter.co.uk / @thebrokenspine.co.uk for the prompt and to everyone contributing! #poems #poetry #writingcommunity #poetrycommunity #scottishpoetry
