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Poetry
A space for poems, spoken pieces, and collections shaped by pressure, memory, fracture, and feeling.
Browse by collection, spoken work, theme, or recency.
Work of resilience and renewal: poems about survival, kinship, faith (in any form), and the long arc of becoming. Clear cadence, steady light, and endings that open rather than preach.
An elegy for Dexter, a Yorkie whose loyal, comic presence carried one family through hard times, children and the everyday rituals of home.
A domestic poem of rain, a half-packed bag and a kettle, where care changes the room without pretending the damage is gone.
A free-verse poem about fear, restraint and a match finally struck, where releasing stored danger becomes a quiet act of courage.
A free-verse poem of ash, rain, and a stubborn seed, where survival begins not through pardon but through green forcing its way upward.
A precise repair poem in which a leaking red pump resists mending, leaving pressure and a blue pilot light to mark the flaw that remains.
A free-verse poem that treats a battered phone and worn household objects as records of use, memory, and a life lived beyond warranty.
A technical free-verse poem where a damaged circuit is repaired without erasing its scars, turning current, carbon, and heat into a study of survival.
A free-verse poem celebrating the worn ladder, knife, pan, and nail, finding resilience in use, weather, and imperfect repair.
A delicate poem of bandaging and shared care, where gauze, blood, roses, and two hands make repair without naming the wound.
A self-liberating poem about a woman lifting the frame around her likeness, turning portrait, role and pretty silence into a door off its hinges.
A canyon-bright poem of dust, height and reckless courage, where red stone, open sky and a stubborn chorus turn fear into motion.
A sun-struck poem of two lovers on a back road, where red braces, dust and shared balance turn an ordinary pause into the first shape of a future.
A healing library poem of stamps, wax and quiet self-address, where receipts, old hurt and honest naming become rituals of return.
A minimalist poem of opal corridors, warm haze and a widening margin, where the self exhales beyond error into something quieter and more whole.
A tender release poem of returned keepsakes, softened endings and one clean cut thread, where letting go becomes peace instead of punishment.
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A hopeful poem of pressed petals, footnotes and pollen-fine light, where healing appears in the smallest annotations and asks for no spectacle.
A reflective poem of spirals, chalk-light and a settling compass, where change arrives through pattern, softness and the courage to stop running.
A luminous library poem of drawers, dust and opal light, where a scattered self is gently catalogued back into voice, presence and a small legible yes.
A self-reclaiming poem of gold margin notes, stamped slips and an open ledger of feeling, where a hidden voice is filed back under its full name.
A voice-finding poem of opal light, careful breath and a page marked HEARD, where silence loosens into truth without needing to shout.
A healing poem of soap-scent, milk-light and inner housekeeping, where shame is lifted gently and the body learns a softer order for living.
A contemplative poem of drawers, accession stamps and low blue light, where care becomes the method for staying with feeling without being overwhelmed.
A boundary poem of wax seals, letters and inward vows, where steadiness replaces chaos and love is measured by what it honours rather than takes.
A futuristic poem of salon mirrors, static touch and old coins, where honesty and embodiment matter more than a risky shortcut to feeling.
Poetry themes
Each stream gathers poems by mood, music, pressure, and the kind of attention the piece asks for.
Poems that walk the fault lines: grief, rupture, war, urban grit, and the mythic underbelly of the everyday. Expect charged images, stark music, and hard turns that don’t tidy the mess so much as name it.
Editor’s picks and special spotlights: the poems, sequences, and craft notes we think deserve your front-row gaze. Rotating highlights, seasonal themes, and one-off gems that show the range of our community.
Poems grouped by this theme.
Where verse meets melody. Poems arranged as songs, chants, and soundscapes—complete with audio players, lyric sheets, and credits for collaborators. Expect live takes, studio mixes, and experiments that let the poem sing in new registers.
Field notes of the inner and outer world: weather, seasons, land, and the quiet revolutions of thought. Lyrical attention, ecological awareness, and a contemplative pace define this stream.
Wit with teeth. Irony, parody, and mischief aimed at power, pretence, and the status quo. Formal play and punchy line breaks welcome; the laugh should leave a bruise.
Work of resilience and renewal: poems about survival, kinship, faith (in any form), and the long arc of becoming. Clear cadence, steady light, and endings that open rather than preach.
Dream-logic, fabulism, and mythic visitations. Reality bends, symbols speak, and images carry more than one meaning. The goal is wonder and unease in equal measure.
Poetry in isiZulu, alongside careful translations where offered. A home for imagery, izibongo (praise poetry), and contemporary voices that carry rhythm and story. Submissions may appear bilingual to welcome wider readers.
65 entries across poetry.
23 entries across poetry.
1 entries across poetry.
1 entries across poetry.
2 entries across poetry.
1 entries across poetry.
Poetry began here as play with words, fragments, and unlikely connections. Over time it became a record of feeling, then a way of making sense without forcing neat explanations too early.
Some pieces are more instinctive. Some are more controlled. None of them are interested in pretending the human experience arrives tidy.
These poems are not written to hand over a single fixed meaning. They are written to hold image, pressure, contradiction, and the parts of experience that resist summary.
Read them slowly or read them in a rush. Read them in sequence if you want to notice how the voice shifts over time. Read them out of order if you want the cleaner shock of recognition.
If a poem leaves you with a clearer feeling rather than a cleaner answer, it has done its job.
Some poems also live in voice.
Where a spoken version exists, it should feel like an extension of the page rather than a separate performance layer. The voice is there to carry the pressure of the line, not distract from it.
Collections gather poems by atmosphere, season, pressure, or recurring thread.
Enter a collection when you want a more sustained mood than the main archive offers, or when you want to stay with a particular register a little longer.