Alt Fam Poetry Slam

Awww you two! 🥰

Or… be a combo of tortured poet and hopeless romantic, and psych yourself out of sending this to your crush and simply write poetry! Then you can share the poetry with the world from behind the anonymity of your bsky handle at @altfampoetryslam.bsky.social

*le sigh* 😉😍🫠

A poet (even / especially one furloughed) always stirs to a muse’s call, even begrudgingly, reaching for the light and notebook or phone with notes app in the middle of the night.

Fellow #AltPoets feel free to share here - where character limits ad a beatnik quality to your verse, gratis.

Good question! Go for it - just be sure to credit the author / source and yes, this is open to all!

Rise and shine, poets! Or try to go back to sleep a little longer first..!

As you sip your morning beverage of choice, or whenever the mood strikes - feel free to share a haiku or poem in the comments!

#AltPoetSociety
☕️🫖🧋

“I have one nation”
“By the same founding fathers?”
“I don’t understand”

- haiku by @altreclamation.altgov.info

#AltPoetSociety

and bruised and blistered by exposure to late summer’s brash and piercing rays,
whilst the quiet of detached stillness has fostered what is underfoot,
preserving it’s surface,
enhancing its sweetness,
beckoning its retrieval -
now a gift to behold.

(Poem by AltReclamation)

of cool and soft grasses - to remain firm in dormancy.
Thus, August marches on
(and on and on)
to September,
when at last the call of harvest
is answered
by hands reaching for the highest branches,
expectant of perfection,
only to find the strain unworthy -
each retrieval blemished

impossible to reattach to the tree once fallen,
stunted potential in juvenile form
not yet sweet enough to tempt a bite.
They lay still in splintered sunlight,
gathering rays to coax scarlet ripeness,
and in the shade of outstretched limbs and nightfall
harnessing the slumber

from months gone by
with branches weighed down like multi part scales
less those rosy orbs at rest beneath the tree -
harvested by an eager gust of wind’s uncontrolled hunger -
their blush a sure sign of premature plucking.
They sit untouched,
waiting for a passersby
For what? -

by the scorching sun,
oozing their tart and inky goodness at the most tender attempt of taking.

Meanwhile, the thicker skinned follow suit in softening to lengthy days -
fragrant melons affirm their ripeness
in reply to a quick knock;
early apples share their measure of sun and rain

August: the most hopeful month of the year,
when the bounty of our labors is realized in the northern hemisphere,
gently plucking fragile fruits.
Tomatoes at their plumpest,
in amusing asymmetries
like shaped balloons inflated to their initial stretch point
by small lungs.
Wild berries softened

Welcome! This is the official unofficial account for poets who care about the future of the US specifically, & the planet & its inhabitants at large. Share and read poetry here. Be kind & respectful.