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Julian (Hool)

@hool415.bsky.social

Nominated for a Forward Prize, Best Of The Net (Twice) and Two Pushcart Awards. Black Bough (Silver Branch Poet), East Ridge Review (Featured Poet), Frogmore Papers, Full House Literary, Dream Catcher, Starbeck Orion, Dreich, Broken Spine, Frazzled Lit.

909 Followers  |  735 Following  |  4,091 Posts  |  Joined: 06.09.2024  |  2.2804

Latest posts by hool415.bsky.social on Bluesky

😍

09.02.2026 09:11 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0
The Question Repeated Itself



The question repeated itself.
β€œSo, tell me,
do you deserve to be here?”
God stared, 
entirely fairly awaiting my answer.
I trembled and sweated 
then finally spoke.
β€œNo”, I said,
β€œI really don’t.”
β€œExactly”, said God, 
before smiling and adding:
β€œYou see, I rarely need
to make the decision 
myself.”

The Question Repeated Itself The question repeated itself. β€œSo, tell me, do you deserve to be here?” God stared, entirely fairly awaiting my answer. I trembled and sweated then finally spoke. β€œNo”, I said, β€œI really don’t.” β€œExactly”, said God, before smiling and adding: β€œYou see, I rarely need to make the decision myself.”

Hullo @fromoneline.bsky.social #fromoneline and to #thequestionrepeateditself

09.02.2026 09:10 β€” πŸ‘ 2    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

The way you read β€˜anticipation’…
brilliant words and of course, reading! πŸ‘ŒπŸ‘Œ

09.02.2026 08:44 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 1    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0
Loss



I used 
to dream 
of your grave,
the cemetery 
undayed 

kneeling
my fingers running
through sickened grass:
clumps
nourished by your cancer,

scrambling 
downwards,
a crescent of mud  
waxing
under every nail, 
 
my hands are
bloody and blackened,
they must match your own,

this dream 
reaches wetted wood,
your lid now weak as rushes
and as I tenderly 
part 
the softened splinters,

only bones

distant traffic
pounds
like a subterranean heart 
 
then 
sizing up the choice,

I strike 
tibia against fibula
hard, 
just to make you
spark again.

Loss I used to dream of your grave, the cemetery undayed kneeling my fingers running through sickened grass: clumps nourished by your cancer, scrambling downwards, a crescent of mud waxing under every nail, my hands are bloody and blackened, they must match your own, this dream reaches wetted wood, your lid now weak as rushes and as I tenderly part the softened splinters, only bones distant traffic pounds like a subterranean heart then sizing up the choice, I strike tibia against fibula hard, just to make you spark again.

Hullo #vss365 and to #bones An old one today.

09.02.2026 05:14 β€” πŸ‘ 12    πŸ” 4    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

Sigh! πŸ™‚

08.02.2026 20:22 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

πŸ™‚

08.02.2026 19:59 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

New style!

08.02.2026 19:36 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

πŸ•πŸ‘

08.02.2026 19:01 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

More!

08.02.2026 08:15 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

These are getting more and more horrific! Excellent.

08.02.2026 08:14 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0
Pale


Once, an elderly neighbour, 
(who would die 
the next day),
was placed by his upstairs window.
He looked so pale:
waxy
as an unlit candle,
his cream curtains 
quivering
like premature, part-formed 
wings.
It was summer,
I was in my garden
and we all knew he was dying.

I sometimes climb 
back 
into that stare,
to take his point of view:
not seeing the trees, plants, or grass
or me,
only a bespoke
armageddon.

Pale Once, an elderly neighbour, (who would die the next day), was placed by his upstairs window. He looked so pale: waxy as an unlit candle, his cream curtains quivering like premature, part-formed wings. It was summer, I was in my garden and we all knew he was dying. I sometimes climb back into that stare, to take his point of view: not seeing the trees, plants, or grass or me, only a bespoke armageddon.

Hullo #vss365 and to #pale

08.02.2026 08:03 β€” πŸ‘ 42    πŸ” 11    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

This feels a nature versus nurture ponder. Stark but thoughtful and effective.
They’ll be a new host and prompt for the week on Monday morning UK time.
Hope to see you there Stace.
Thanks for taking part, even if a little late!πŸ™

08.02.2026 03:52 β€” πŸ‘ 2    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0
Old


I know a few perfectly well 
elderly 
who can only look back,
you know, the ones that forcefully reminisce 
at every point,
as if they have a tilting mechanism 
which suddenly acts
to cease their engagement 
with the current.
These days I just think
there’s something eminently sensible,
even rather lovely
in that.






Enlightenment 


Stopped driving at a crossing,
facing the other way:
a packed city bus,
the young crew-cut driver looked 
so serene,
reminded me of a long-ago 
college visitor:
a meditation demonstration 
from a Buddhist monk;
both calmly following the prescribed path,
each suitably unattached 
to their distracting 
internal chat.

Old I know a few perfectly well elderly who can only look back, you know, the ones that forcefully reminisce at every point, as if they have a tilting mechanism which suddenly acts to cease their engagement with the current. These days I just think there’s something eminently sensible, even rather lovely in that. Enlightenment Stopped driving at a crossing, facing the other way: a packed city bus, the young crew-cut driver looked so serene, reminded me of a long-ago college visitor: a meditation demonstration from a Buddhist monk; both calmly following the prescribed path, each suitably unattached to their distracting internal chat.

Hullo @tomsnarsky.bsky.social #smallpoemsunday #poetry Thanks as always for your curating!

08.02.2026 03:46 β€” πŸ‘ 11    πŸ” 4    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

I’ll take that. A really lingering funeral…
Cheers Glenn

07.02.2026 17:06 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

πŸ‘πŸ‘

07.02.2026 16:47 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

It’s bloomin marvellous Jits!

07.02.2026 12:04 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

πŸ˜‰

07.02.2026 08:28 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0
Overheads 



When I was young
the constellations were glints of bone,
suspended skeletons,
whose mythic forms loomed large
as legends;
the pinned sagas of my junior skies.

Then a telescope 
brought the stars to me.
Freed from their confinement
by the sound of science,
I understood 
something of the universe’s 
atomic roar.

I noticed colours:
odd drops of blood,
the discarded flecks 
from a manhandled bullion
and tints
from the deftest breath of blue.

For a time, these sparks scarred me
as the furthest outriders 
from the pomp
of a Creator’s blaze.

Now 
my exploded theology 
has flung these thoughts aside
and all my myths have died.
With only science left,
half a knowledge no longer enough
to hear the birth of light;
and the sky is mute again,
the darkness,
undisguised.

Overheads When I was young the constellations were glints of bone, suspended skeletons, whose mythic forms loomed large as legends; the pinned sagas of my junior skies. Then a telescope brought the stars to me. Freed from their confinement by the sound of science, I understood something of the universe’s atomic roar. I noticed colours: odd drops of blood, the discarded flecks from a manhandled bullion and tints from the deftest breath of blue. For a time, these sparks scarred me as the furthest outriders from the pomp of a Creator’s blaze. Now my exploded theology has flung these thoughts aside and all my myths have died. With only science left, half a knowledge no longer enough to hear the birth of light; and the sky is mute again, the darkness, undisguised.

Hullo #vss365 and to #blood
Another old one today.

07.02.2026 06:17 β€” πŸ‘ 26    πŸ” 7    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

πŸ‘Œ

07.02.2026 06:04 β€” πŸ‘ 0    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

V impressed! πŸ†

06.02.2026 20:46 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

🫑

06.02.2026 20:30 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

Always a pleasure, Fifty

06.02.2026 19:31 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

Cheers Fifty. It was so sad and awful to observe.

06.02.2026 19:31 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

Really. It’s as good as that floozy crashing the wake!
πŸ™Œ

06.02.2026 17:57 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

😁😁😁

06.02.2026 16:09 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0

Cheers John. Not sure I’d noticed that!

06.02.2026 14:27 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 0    πŸ“Œ 0
Post image

@hool415.bsky.social Such has been my consumptive state this week, I've only just managed to turn out the slightest of trinkets for your #tracks #PromptCombo. But here it is, and within the stated deadline πŸ™ƒ

Hope you've had a lovely week hosting !

06.02.2026 14:21 β€” πŸ‘ 18    πŸ” 5    πŸ’¬ 4    πŸ“Œ 0

Oh you are soooo annoying Jitters. As Tommy Cooper might say…just like that! The magic that spins from your brain so easily. Just ludicrous! Could requote every ruddy line! πŸŽ―πŸ†πŸ†

06.02.2026 14:25 β€” πŸ‘ 3    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

Nice! πŸŽ―πŸŽ–οΈ

06.02.2026 12:27 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

Only want to say one word Andy…beautiful!

06.02.2026 12:26 β€” πŸ‘ 1    πŸ” 0    πŸ’¬ 1    πŸ“Œ 0

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