Joshua Walker

I always love seeing people honestly express themselves through the arts. Amy Jean just put out this and it’s fantastic. If you’ve got the time and are so inclined, give it a listen!

This poem celebrates resilience and courage in the face of oppression, using Minneapolis as a symbol for enduring hope. The Sun Rises in Minneapolis The streets are quiet, yet the air hums with fire, Windows shuttered, hearts unbowed in the cold. Sirens scream, but we rise, defiant, entire, Hope threads the cracks, relentless and bold. Every step echoes a vow unbroken, Every hand raised sparks the dawn. In the rubble of fear, courage is spoken, A flame that lingers when shadows are drawn. We march with the morning, refusing to kneel, Our voices a chorus, unwavering and loud. The sun climbs higher, relentless, real, Lighting our wounds, our anger, our crowd. We are the heartbeat no force can erase, Minneapolis awakens, unbroken in grace.

A meditation on inner defiance and moral clarity, showing the unyielding nature of a rebel’s heart. The Truth of a Rebel Heart It beats beneath lies, beneath their disguise, A drum in the chest that refuses to bend. Through smoke and mirrors, it sees and defies, The shape of truth no shadow can rend. No law, no fear, no gilded cage Can silence the fire that courses inside. It moves through streets, it writes on page, It stumbles, it bleeds, yet will not hide. The rebel heart names what others deny, Calls injustice where silence looms. It whispers, it roars, it refuses to die, Blooming like flame in shadowed rooms. Stand with it, and you cannot fall— The rebel heart defies, redeems, calls.

Explores love as an active force that sustains and guides people through hardship and injustice. Let Love Guide Us Through smoke and steel, through rage and flame, Let love guide us when they brand our names. Not the quiet kind that bends to fear, But the fire that stands tall when they sneer. It moves in action, in fists held high, In words that refuse to let truth die. It steadies the weak, it binds the torn, Finds the voice when none dare to mourn. The world may fracture, the night may roar, But love is the compass that shows the shore. Through every trial, through every divide, Let love guide us, steadfast, alive.

A rallying cry for perseverance, unity, and collective freedom, emphasizing moral and political resolve. ’Til All Are Free We march through shadow, through walls of doubt, Our chains unseen, but they cannot bind. Every step forward a furious shout, Every gesture a story of courage defined. Freedom is not a gift—they lie! It is the sword we wield, the breath we claim. It shines in the unbroken, in the defiant sky, Dances in fire, in struggle, in flame. We will not rest, we will not bend, Until all are free, until every chain ends. Our voices rise, relentless, unbroken, A litany of hope, a vow, a token. The fight is ours, the promise stays, Until the last shadow yields to day.

I won’t lie, this has been a rough time for all of us, friends — but the good fight is never easy. Much love to the people of Minnesota and Greenland. This set of poems is for you and everyone else in the thick of resisting. 💙💙💙
#poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #resist #truth #democracy

The post features an image of the cover of the literary journal ionosphere superimposed on an image of a white single-use plastic bag. The journal cover contains a picture of two superimposed images of a kelp forest and a high-domed building with many windows, and two colorful bars framing it. The title is written in white at the top. Below the image of the book cover, a font reads "ionosphere Vol III Issue 1", and above, a font reads "available now".

Issue 5 of the literary journal ionosphere is now available on Amazon!
Read poetry and essays by @fadingbetty.bsky.social,
@bigjosh84.bsky.social, @zoomburst.substack.com,
@misshalcyon.bsky.social, @suzannafitzpatrick.bsky.social, and many
others.

A poem about confronting fear and standing defiantly in the face of pressure, embracing courage and resilience. Too Scared to Be Afraid You stand on the edge, trembling, But your hands are steady, your eyes alight with fire. The world screams in a thousand lies, Yet you refuse to blink, refuse to fold. Fear prowls like a wolf in the night, But you stare it down, unshaken, untamed. They tell you to shrink, to soften, to hide, But you carry every wound like a banner, Every scar a testament, every heartbeat a revolt. You are too alive to be afraid— And that is the terror they cannot touch.

A poem exploring inner fears and confronting the hidden parts of ourselves, turning darkness into personal strength. The Face Staring at Me from the Shadows The face stares back, hollow, unblinking, A mirror of all I try not to name. It whispers in spaces I thought were safe, Breathing fear into the cracks of my calm. I reach for light, but it clings to the dark, A shadow that knows my every step, my every doubt. And yet—I do not flinch, I do not turn. For the face in the shadows is mine to meet, Mine to challenge, mine to defy. I step forward, unafraid, unbroken, And the shadows shrink beneath my blaze.

A metaphorical poem about enduring harsh conditions and scarcity, finding inner strength and persistence amid struggle. Drowning in the Drought The sun burns everything I once knew, A thirst no river can ever quench. Cracks spread like veins across the earth, And I wander, parched, in the silence of heat. Every step kicks up dust, every breath scorches, Yet still I move, still I search for the rain. The sky refuses mercy, but I will not yield, I sink and rise in this barren tide, My own heartbeat the only water I can drink, And still, I fight to bloom where nothing grows.

An inspiring poem about resilience, hope, and rising above adversity, celebrating courage and the human spirit. Rise in the Ruins When the world has burned your edges, When silence presses like stone against your chest, Remember: fire still lives inside you, A heartbeat unbroken, a light that will not die. Stand in the ashes and name your strength, Call it, claim it, let it rise louder than fear. Every scar is a song, every fall a step forward, Every breath a rebellion, every tear a spark. We are not defined by what breaks us— We are defined by how we rise, By the courage that trembles, then steadies, By the love we carry, and the light we give.

Normally I’d have words here, but today it’s about the poetry. Keep resisting. Peace and love. 💙 Here’s some poems.
#poetry #blueskypoets #poems #writingcommunity

Blocked, thanks!

Oh, we have a lovely piece from @bigjosh84.bsky.social - zowza..

I really appreciate you saying that 💙 It means a lot to know the work resonates with you.

Your words are beautiful 💙 Thank you for sharing them and for your kindness . Together, in words and in spirit, we keep the light alive.

I’m so glad it touched you. 💙 That poem came from a place of reckoning with what we endure and what we carry forward—thank you for feeling it with me.

Thank you for sharing that. 💙 It means so much to know the poem resonated—it was written from a place I hope others can feel, even in the pain.

I’m truly grateful for your words. 💙 It means everything to know the soul behind the poetry is seen and felt.

Thank you so much! 💙 That really means a lot. I’m glad the words resonate with you.

A poem about resilience and collective strength. It emphasizes rising from hardship, carrying the inner fire, and reclaiming power together. The Ashes We Carry We rise from ruins no one sees, our hands scorched, but still unbowed. Every failure becomes a spark, every scar a map of how we survived. The wind may howl, the night may bite, but together we carry the flames. Through ash and smoke, our steps are sure, each breath a promise, each heartbeat a drum. No shadow lasts where we ignite, no fear can chain what is reborn. The world will feel our heat again, and from the embers, we claim the dawn.

Explores speaking truth and standing resilient in darkness. It’s about lifting others, carrying hope, and refusing to be silenced. Voices in the Dark We whisper truths the silence fears, our hearts a drum in the empty night. Every shadow we face becomes light, every tremble a step toward defiance. The forgotten hear our footfalls, the unseen see our sparks. Through hollow streets, we carry our fire, turning despair into the song of the brave. Even when the world forgets our names, our echoes refuse to fade. We speak for the ones silenced too long, and our voices linger in every heart.

Celebrates unity, resilience, and courage in the face of adversity. Emphasizes holding together and enduring through trials. Unbroken Threads Our spirits weave through storm and fire, each moment binding us tighter than fear. No chain can hold what refuses to break, no lie can sever what is true. We walk together on shattered glass, hands clasped, hearts beating in defiance. Every fall a lesson, every scar a bridge, every whisper a vow we won’t forget. Through fury, frost, and unrelenting night, we endure, relentless, unbowed, alive. In unity, we shake the world awake, and let the tremor of our courage resound.

A reflective poem about hope, perseverance, and shared light. Imagines a sacred space beyond darkness where resilience and connection thrive. A Place Between Stars There is a space beyond despair, where we gather the fragments of hope. Each heartbeat a lantern, each step a vow, every gaze a reminder we endure. Between galaxies of doubt and night, we build a sky of our own making. The quiet hum of resilience guides us, the glow of persistence marks our path. We are not lost; we are luminous, we are eternal in the space between stars. No darkness can claim the fire we carry, and nothing dims the light of who we are.

Friends, it’s been a long year for all of us — but keep the faith. Keep resisting. Keep speaking your truth. Believe in your voice, and never let the world silence it! 💙💙💙

#poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #poems

A poem about collective defiance and unyielding fire. It captures how we rise together, resist oppression, and transform fear into strength. The Blaze That Burnt the Stars We lit a fire where the heavens dared to watch, a blaze that burnt the stars and scarred the night. No chain could hold us, no shadow could bind us, we roared against the silence that sought to drown us. They whispered caution, called it madness, but our heartbeat was thunder, our voice a comet. Every fear we faced became a spark, every spark a storm that could not be tamed. Through shattered nights we carried each other, each ember a promise, each flame a vow. We burned in unison, defying their walls, igniting the world with what they could not kill. Together we rose, untouchable, alive, leaving a sky rewritten in fire and light.

A meditation on shared endurance through pain and darkness, finding rhythm, strength, and light in collective struggle. The Lullaby of Screams Night draped heavy hands across our chests, and we listened to the lullaby of screams. Each echo was a story we thought we’d lost, a song of pain cradled close to our ribs. In trembling, we found rhythm, in fracture, we found our breath. The dark taught us to sing together, without needing anyone else to hear. We carried one another through hollowed hours, lifting hearts that almost broke, naming every shadow that tried to claim us, and reclaiming our own voices back. Through quiet and chaos alike, we learned to cradle light from darkness.

Celebrates resilience, shared survival, and quiet victories. Focuses on how connection and courage help us endure and rise. Ways We Didn’t Break We walked through fire and lived, not unscathed, but unbowed. Every fall became a lesson, every scar a map of survival we shared. We did not bend when the winds tried, we did not fade when night pressed. These are the ways we didn’t break, the quiet victories that built our strength. Hands clasped in darkness, we rose, finding courage in one another’s breath. Every whispered truth became a bridge, every heartbeat a drum of defiance. Together we endure, we rise, we hold, woven by fire into something untouchable.

Explores a sacred, shared inner space of memory, love, and resilience. A reflective, mythic meditation on carrying light beyond darkness. The Place Beyond Your Heart There is a place beyond your heart, and we walk there together, silently, where echoes of what we loved drift like ghosts on a windless night. Step lightly, for it is sacred, a realm of fire and silence, of endings that are beginnings in disguise. We wander it, learning its language, carrying its light back into the world. Each step is a vow, each breath a promise, that what we cherish will outlast the darkness. In that place, we are more than flesh, we are the pulse of every memory, the light that refuses to be forgotten.

252 years ago today. men in Boston had enough and poured that tea into the ocean. This year has drained many of us, but we still resist, and the cracks in their empire of lies are starting to show. Keep telling truth to power! 💙💙💙 Here’s some poems.

#poetry #poet #poem #poetrycommunity #poems

This poem is about the hidden weight people carry—the quiet wounds, the unspoken fears, and the private battles that shape us far more than anyone realizes. The Things I Bury in Silence I keep a thousand tiny funerals tucked behind my ribs— names I never learned, wounds I never stitched, dreams I folded into smaller dreams until they disappeared. Most days I walk like nothing’s frayed, but every step remembers something I chose to swallow instead of speak.

This one is about survival after devastation—how people rebuild themselves from brokenness, not by returning to who they were, but by becoming something stronger and stranger. What We Become in the Ruins When the world caves in, we don’t rise— we crawl, we bleed, we stitch ourselves from the scraps of yesterday. But there’s a power in ruins— a clarity that comes when nothing is left but the truth we feared to face.

This reflects that volatile mix of hope and danger inside someone who feels too deeply—how love, anger, longing, and purpose can ignite at any moment. Lit Fuse Heart My chest is a matchbook— one strike and I’m burning, one spark and I’m gone. I love too hard, hurt too quick, rise too fast, fall too far— a walking wildfire pretending to be calm

This poem is about being imperfect but trying—about stumbling toward better versions of ourselves even when we keep repeating old mistakes. Halfway to Redemption I’ve crawled through my own shadows more times than I’ll admit, tripped on the bones of who I swore I’d stop being. Still— I drag myself forward, hand over trembling hand, toward a future that forgives what the past never would.

When you’re lost in winter’s grip, let your soul be the fire—
and guard that heat like your last breath.

Here’s some poems. 💙 💙 💙

#poetry #poems #writing #poem #poetrycommunity #blueskypoetts

New Poetry! poster with a snipper of the poem "My hands were not meant for prayer but they fold anyway not to God, but to gravity. Ash collects..."

Read our new poem by Joshua Walker! Follow him over at @bigjosh84.bsky.social! We're really excited to have his work over in our yard!

A poem about defiance, self-determination, and refusing to be constrained by fate or authority. The speaker asserts their power and identity, refusing to kneel or compromise. Claiming My Stake- I carve my name in the marrow of time, not in whispers, not in dust— but in fire that licks at the sky’s cold spine, in echoes that never rust. I take what fate would dare withhold, drag it, kicking, through the night— no man was born to beg for gold, nor dim his spark for softer light. They’ll call it madness, call it sin, but I won’t kneel, I won’t break. If destiny won’t let me in, I’ll burn the door and claim my stake. No grave nor government will set my place— I carve my name. I leave no trace.

A poem about heartbreak and the struggle to let go of someone who once mattered. It explores memory, loss, and the tension between forgetting and feeling. Things I Choose to Forget- I choose to forget how your voice used to sound, A melody lost in the hush of the air. The echoes still linger, they circle around, Yet I swallow their whispers—I no longer care. I choose to forget how your hands fit in mine, The way that you mapped every fault in my skin. Your touch once felt sacred, a shimmering sign, Now faded to nothing, where warmth had been. I choose to forget all the dreams that we made, The futures we painted in colors so bright. They blacken like paper that burns as it fades, Collapsing to embers that die in the night. Yet still, when the dark presses hard on my chest, I cannot forget how you made me feel less.

A modern, cinematic poem about movement, uncertainty, and chasing hope. The speaker navigates life’s chaos while holding onto the possibility of something better. Zigzagging Towards the Light- We ride the neon arteries of an endless night, headlights flickering like distant morse code— a gas gauge quivers, caught between hunger and hope. Billboards flicker their hollow prophecies, shadows stretch long over pavement’s breath, the road unraveling in whispers and wagers. Between exit signs and restless laughter, we navigate by the glow of what won’t die. A promise flickers in the void, untethered, but still burning like a slow-dying star. This is the kingdom of almost and not yet, where emptiness hums with the weight of possibility, and fullness slips through our fingers like wind.

An uplifting poem about resilience, hope, and moving forward despite hardship. It emphasizes that even small, quiet perseverance can guide us through life’s storms. What Still Rises- After nights that swallow whole the breath we keep, something in us still rises—quiet, unbroken. We gather the wreckage of who we were and shape it into something we couldn’t be before. We’re not defined by the weight we carried, but by the fact we kept moving under it. Hope isn’t loud, and it isn’t pure— just a stubborn ember refusing to die. And somehow, even against the storm, that small, defiant light is enough to lead us home.

Moments slip through us faster than we want to admit.
Hold onto the ones that matter—there’s no second run, no rewind.
Just now.

#poetry #writingcommunity #blueskypoets #poems

That truly means a lot—thank you for taking the time to read them.

I’m really glad it resonated with you—thank you for taking the time to say that. 💙

Thank you so much, I really appreciate that! 💙

Of course, I’m honored they spoke to you. That’s all I ever hope for with these—to leave something worth returning to. 💙

A poem about fleeting love and the hollowness left behind when something burns bright but never roots itself. It’s about how intensity can’t replace depth. Quick and Easy A moment passed, and here we are— two hearts that burn, then fade too fast. We chase the thrill, we name the star, but nothing real was made to last. We speak our truths, then walk away, like promises that never stayed. The rush is sweet, but hard to say what parts of us were truly swayed. It’s easy now, but hard to see what hides beneath the hollow grin. We play the game—pretend to be unchanged by where it’s been. Quick and easy—still it stings, this fleeting love that never clings.

Written for the quiet ones who endure unseen battles. It’s about the strength inside those who appear calm but are fighting to hold themselves together. A Man Who is Not A man who is not broken, but betrayed, his soul worn thin by scars unseen. He stands in silence, half-afraid— a shadow of the might he’s been. A man who is not hollow, but withered, his spirit crushed beneath its weight. He speaks no words, though every shiver’d thought defies the hand of fate. A man who is not lost, but bound, his heart a garden, overgrown. He walks where only echoes sound, and grief has made its home. A man who is not what eyes believe— a quiet truth the night won’t leave.

A reminder for anyone feeling isolated or unseen. This one’s about quiet companionship, and the unseen threads that connect us through pain and healing. Remember That You Are Not Alone When shadows fall and hope feels far, remember—you’re not on your own. The world may shift, but still you are a voice that trembles, not unknown. In darkest hours when hearts despair, someone is near, though out of sight. A presence breathes within the air, whispering peace into the night. The weight you carry doesn’t bind your spirit down, though it may try. For every tear, there’s someone kind who sees your pain, who won’t deny. So when you falter, pause, and know— you’re never lost; you’ll always grow.

This poem is about the erosion of love and the quiet acceptance that follows. It’s not about blame—it’s about what remains when the promises are gone. Oaths We Break We swore to stay, to never drift apart, yet here we stand—two ghosts, estranged. The vows once carved so deep in heart now splinter, cold, and rearranged. We promised trust, but trust is ghost, a shadow slipping through our hands. Each word we spoke now haunts the most, unmoored from what it understands. We swore to love through storm and trial, but storms can tear what roots can’t save. The love we held now fades to mild— a dying flame we couldn’t brave. Oaths once sacred—softly broke, like smoke that rises, lost in hope.

Forgiveness is the hardest thing we ever do.
If you can, do it—but never forget.
Hate rots the soul faster than grief.
Whatever we’ve done, I forgive you.
And I hope, somewhere in the quiet, you forgive me too. Without further ado here’s some new poems. 💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity

The Rapture Machine by Joshua Walker They buried God in a vending machine behind the old roller rink... The Rapture Machine by Joshua Walker

Dog Throat is pleased to announce that we've nominated The Rapture Machine by Joshua Walker for Best Micro Fiction (under 400 words) 2026. Thank you Joshua for sharing this piece with us. @bigjosh84.bsky.social

dogthroat.com/post/the-rap...

Thank you so much, Dog Throat! I’m honored to be nominated for Best Micro Fiction 2026 — it means a lot to have my work recognized by you.

A lone figure standing on a cliff at dawn, wind in their hair, wings made of scars and sunlight. The air hums with defiance — proof that even the broken can rise when the world expects them to crawl. How the Broken Learn to Fly They said the sky was too far, but my bones remembered the wind. They said I’d fall again, but falling taught me balance. They said I’d never heal right, but the scars became my wings. I don’t need perfect flight— I just need the will to rise.

A quiet morning kitchen, coffee steam curling like ghosts of yesterday. The flame on the stove flickers — small, steady, human. The kind of light that refuses to die, even when no one is watching. Ordinary Fire I wasn’t built for glory, but I still burn steady. No banners, no crowd, just the hum of survival. The world turns cold, but I keep my own flame. Some nights, that’s all it takes to keep the dark from winning.

A crowded street of blurred faces; one person stands still, eyes closed, hearing a different rhythm. The poem hums with quiet rebellion — the unseen soul who refuses to fade into the noise. Song of the Unseen They don’t see us in the crowd, but our silence is thunder. They don’t write our names down, but the earth still remembers our steps. They don’t hear us breathe, but every breath defies them. We are the miracle unseen— louder than their forgetting.

A figure walking into a storm, coat whipping, unbowed. The sky breaks open, but they don’t turn back. It’s not about the victory — it’s about the refusal to stop moving forward. Against the Wind They say dreams are fragile, but so are stars before they burn. They say hope is foolish, but so is life without it. They say resistance breaks you, but it’s the only thing that builds. Every bird that soars was told it couldn’t fly.

They tell us we’re ugly, that we’re nothing special. Why? Because birds with broken wings can’t stand to see others soar. Never listen. Believe. Hope. Resist. 💙
#poetry #writingcommunity #blueskypoets #poems

Ash of the Oathbreaker, a poem in alliterative verse by Joshua Walker Blades brood over / the broken promise. / Steel does not sleep. / Storms find the false; / fangs find the soft: / No hall holds lies.

@bigjosh84.bsky.social has a short poem in the current issue of Forgotten Ground Regained: Ash of the Oathbreaker. Think of it as a quick dose of Viking/Old English spirit. It uses a Norse stanza form, ljoðaháttr (song meter), a close relative of the ballad.
alliteration.net/poetry/ash-o...

A poem about the space grief leaves behind, and how silence becomes its own kind of memory. The Last Breath of Silence I waited for your voice, but it never came, The echoes of your absence call my name. The room is full of shadows, cold and wide, Where once you stood, now there’s only pride. I loved you with a depth that tore me apart, A love that bled from the cracks in my heart. But you slipped away like a whisper in the breeze, And I was left to drown in memories. Your eyes, once full, now empty and dim, The smile that was mine, now a distant hymn. You were the sun that never rose, Leaving me in a world where no light grows. Now I stand alone, with nothing to hold, A story unwritten, a love grown cold.

A poem about the voices we forget, and the way the earth remembers what we try to bury. Whispers in the Dirt The earth hums softly, secrets buried deep, Whispers in the dirt, where restless shadows weep. A lover’s name etched cold in fractured stone, A promise lost, now silent and alone. Hands once clasped now vanish with the light, Fading traces swallowed by the endless night. Roots clutch tight, tangled in sorrow’s grasp, Silent words forgotten in the past. Each footstep stirs the ghosts beneath the ground, Their muffled voices, haunting without sound. Beneath the soil, their stories intertwine, A timeless chorus, both cruel and divine. We walk above, unaware of their cries— Whispers in the dirt, where memory dies.

A poem about feeling out of step with the world, and the noise that follows when you just want quiet. That Song Oh, that song again—why can’t they see? It slithers and screeches through my every vein, a dirge in my skull, a maddening spree, but they dance like it’s joy, like it’s not pain. The beat’s a plague, it’s a constant invasion, each note like a wound, a dull, endless ache, and yet they all grin, with no sign of persuasion, as if I’m the crazy one, for sanity’s sake. Their voices rise, they’ve memorized every word, like this cacophony is some kind of grace, while I’m drowning in noise, my thoughts blurred, longing for silence, for any kind of space. I’m cracking, but no one hears me retreat— they think I’m the one who’s lost the beat.

A poem about love that softens the edges of the world and makes even the smallest moments radiant. The Brightest of Tomorrows I wake with the sun, and it smiles for me, A promise of joy in the air, so free. The world hums a tune that only I hear, And every step forward feels light, not sheer. You’re by my side, and the whole world fades, Every color more vivid, every shade. We dance through the hours, no need to ask, Our hearts in sync, a love unclad of mask. The sky is so wide, it can’t contain, The dreams we share, the joy, the gain. Laughter spills like rivers that flow, And time stands still as our hearts glow. Today is the day we make it all real, For every moment, this love is what I feel.

People ask why I always post poems on Tuesday—such a mundane day. That’s the point. We fight the good fight, speak truth to power, burn bright—but it’s who we are in the quiet, ordinary moments that defines us, that tells the story of our lives. 💙
#poems #writingcommunity #blueskypoets

Thank you for feeling it with me, and for reading. Always great to hear from you.

Thank you — I’m really glad that one struck a chord with you.

That means a lot — thank you for really feeling the pieces and not just reading them. I’m glad “The Pawn Shop” spoke to you; that one came from a very raw place.