Phil Hyde
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gphydeauthor.bsky.social
Phil Hyde
@gphydeauthor.bsky.social
1.3K followers 1.4K following 560 posts
Poet, writer and reviewer living in Grimsby, UK. Published by Black Bough, Hedgehog, the Dark Poets, Written Off, LIncs & Inks, voidspacezine. Short fiction extensively published by Pure Slush. Always follow back. https://linktr.ee/gphydeauthor
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Reposted by Phil Hyde
rotherwrites.bsky.social
Welcome one and all for this week's @thebrokenspine.co.uk for the #PoemsAbout theme of #LockedDoors, and why they might be locked, what lies behind them.
Until Alan returns please keep the sharing and feedback alive. It took a long time to build #PoemsAbout to the community it is today. 🎯
The Other Side of Truth Some of them don’t look like doors at all. Take wallets and bank accounts for instance; neither you nor I can see over those walls. We take it on trust what’s on the other side. There’s always something there, something you can rely on; call it truth. But this truth is only ever half of the story, even if it is real. One day you find the key or the ladder to that treasury of wealth, usually money. Your illusionist milks the audience, pulls back the curtain, to reveal nothing. A blank, a void. And that’s the other side of truth. Ugly. © Glenn Barker November 2025
November 7, 2025 at 7:18 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
sonnetsmith.bsky.social
I've been too busy to write much this week, but turns out I already had one for #poemsabout #Lockeddoors
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
As always, I tend to not title my sonnets, so this is sonnet 15
In my palace is a door that's barred. Buried deep within its stony walls This wooden blockade does dark secrets guard, And holds within a beast the world appalls. Forever must this vile room be locked, This hidden room whose contents must stay hushed; It is a room where memories go to rot, A room where putrid past dissolves to dust. At night I hear the ghosts of shame cry out, And let a chilling scream fly from their tomb; Yet sleep is peaceful whilst they cant escape Their words will nevermore my mind consume. My heart and soul are spared a vexing doom, As long as locked, and barred, remain that room.
November 7, 2025 at 3:16 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
saintghost.bsky.social
For #PoemsAbout #LockedDoors ✨

for @thebrokenspine.co.uk
& @alanparrywriter.co.uk
Creature What is kept behind locked doors grows fangs and eyes. The virginal offspring of goat and lion or an insect born from the saliva of a cuckoo. These things relish the underbelly, the mother-of-pearl darkness; they feed on secrecy, dust motes, and swallowed gold keys. The things we want to know not know us best. What is kept behind this door is screaming itself a new throat. Nobody saw it crawl into there; they must have already swiped the immense swish of blood, the writhing trail of dead. The shuffling across the hallway gets decidedly more agitated. There are crafty and deceitful animals that never walk in a straight line. Somebody vomits, no nurse ever appears to clean it up. And no nurse ever opens the door. But the door is not really closed, not completely: it is just waiting for you to find a way of sublimation, to arrow your bones through the vacuum eye of its keyhole, to make yourself small enough to fit through. The thing behind the locked door has a voice like a nail bomb. It sounds like something is being slaughtered, quartered, going to war on itself. The archaic power in the intense wordlessness of a howl, a bird that eats rose thorns and thistles. Somebody bleats back like a motherless lamb. I try to imagine how far you have to go away from yourself to end up in a place like that. I imagine something with horns, possibly hooves, cloven ones, obviously. A fly-flicking tail. Maybe branched antlers, calico manes, or even charred wings; the leathered skin of its countless victims flapping uselessly and breathless against bell-tower stone. Griffon claws, chimera tongue. A harpy licking the finger bones of dead little children like sour lollipops. Or the screeching surprise of Bluebeard’s last wife or that of one of her many predecessors on discovering a lineage of lies. Even from the decrepit little fenced-in courtyard, you can hear the thing thrashing behind the closed door. It does not waver in its manic clamour; it’… golden wool. Madness is a godless temple and we’ve all gone inside to pray. The thing behind the door needs our silence to grow louder. The door listens for us just as we listen to it. Shadows need an absence of trust to thrive and every lock is a promise not kept. The door has an infinite soul, of course, made of rust, nails, and splintered wood. The tense clenching of your mouth when you’re alone in your head, the shakes that you get coming down hard. Or the shakes that get you when you leave the door open and the windows a shrine gaping wide. The rooms you don’t go into are modern bestiaries with teeth hacked into rubber walls to x off the days until the manticore is tamed, until the room is not a room but a tomb. The only proof of an existence between fever and fable, a hieroglyph to read with your scars. A small bird that fights kelp-furred river horses. A fish that appears when the silvered Pleiades decline. An animal so wild that no hunter dare approach it for fear of learning to sing. Three days later, she sits across from me at the dinner table, asking me to pass the ketchup. She laughs like skewered sunshine, precariously slanted, the little bell peal of those who have been silk-sedated to the sky. There is whispered talk of hard drugs, of mental overload, of an infant daughter taken away. But mostly, there are whispers of worry, a real tangible fear of who will be locked out next from the beeline, out of themselves, a coagulated snarl, out of time. Because one thing is for certain, as surefire as death: Anybody could grow horns in a place like this, anybody could pass through a door. Medieval beasts An antlered lion(?), a unicorn, a monkey, orange butterflies, a green bird Image found on Pinterest
November 7, 2025 at 1:22 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
johnchmura.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #LockedDoors
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
I will put a reel in the comments, or I won’t.
LOCKED DOORS I’ve learned or been reluctantly convinced to trust the math so if Monty Hall may he rest in peace resurrected his game show host self and showed me Schrödinger’s pussy or a goat behind door number two I would switch my choice but I wouldn’t like it. I want bigger balls to fall faster, I want Columbus to land in India, I want eels born from mud, I want my wife to have less teeth than me, I want ice smaller than water, and I want 77 million Americans to be and to vote smarter, but they ain’t and they’re maybe never gonna.
November 7, 2025 at 7:00 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
halfironmum.bsky.social
My contribution to this week's #poemsabout prompt #lockeddoors is very short and probably should come with a trigger warning for suicide. With thanks to @thebrokenspine.co.uk. Am not tagging anyone else due to subject matter
Notes from her final mental health assessment She was well kempt. She wore casual clothes Her hair was clean and brushed Her nails were painted I assssed her to be low risk
November 7, 2025 at 12:39 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
rburrows.bsky.social
My #PoemsAbout #LockedDoors was a bit of a hurried affair - which is ironic considering the subject matter! And yes I know she’s a hermaphrodite -maybe that’s my picturebook-writing coming through or maybe it’s significant - you decide! 😊Thanks @alanparrywriter.co.uk 🥰 @thebrokenspine.co.uk #poetry
November 7, 2025 at 7:06 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
poetry-with-hart.bsky.social
Not sure what to say about this one for #poemsabout of #lockeddoors. It's an old one I edited from a would-be collection I have trouble going back to titled "Acts in Madness." Anyway, I have two more simmering for the #prompt, so stay tuned.

@thebrokenspine.co.uk

#poem #poetry #skypoem #skypoetry
In Case of Fire, Break Glass We put up barriers. The plywood shook in my mind’s eye. A living creature ready to smash forward crushing the illusion of family cohesion. We put up barriers Lock in the sins Lock down the loss Lock away the violence. We put up barriers barricaded windows slept in the living room fortified in our fears. We put up barriers Lock in your heart Lock in familial loyalty Lock the windows on both sides We put up barriers He can’t leave without us losing him we lose the family He can’t run away. We put up barriers no one can run away locks on both sides baseball bat in the closet In case of fire, break glass.
November 7, 2025 at 3:08 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
drnaturegirl.debbiemross.co.uk
Hello #poetrycommunity @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk This is my slim offering for todays #PoemsAbout #LockedDoors thanks as always to reader and sharers I’ll be popping in and out as time allows. Looking forward to your contributions.

#poetry #poems
A poem by Debbie Ross entitled Shut Out Or Shut In Body text as follows In my dreams there is locked door after locked door, down a never ending corridor. I don't know what it means, I rarely remember dreams, but I remember the feeling of panic, of not being able to get through to get to you.
November 7, 2025 at 9:03 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
anna-orridge.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #LockedDoors

Sorry, this is very much an off-the-cuff fragment. I made up a little micro-story here last night, and thought I'd turn it into a poem for fun, since the theme matches.

Just trying to work out if it's worth continuing as a WIP, either in prose or verse.
November 7, 2025 at 12:46 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
zentinl.bsky.social
Finally a breather to be here with #PoemsAbout #lockeddoors. can't wait to read everyone's work. @thebrokenspine.co.uk. @brokenspinearts.bsky.social @alanparry83.bsky.social @karenpgonzalez.bsky.social cial #poetrycommunity #poetry #poems #blueskypoets #blueskypoetry
November 9, 2025 at 3:54 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
danigracewrites.bsky.social
Trap Door

Locked into life
A prisoner of strife
Made to feel guilty
About wanting to be free
Shamed into survival
With few pleasure revivals
Fearing what others say
After I go away—
Still a being subdued
By audience reviews.

#PoemsAbout
#LockedDoors
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
November 8, 2025 at 11:16 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
anntigone.bsky.social
We had our own language
of words, looks, touch—
telepathic mind stuff,
we read each other
like custom made books...

#LockedDoors #PoemsAbout
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
November 7, 2025 at 9:27 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
stacebot.bsky.social
For this week's #PoemsAbout #LockedDoors, I'm thinking about trying to open and failing.

Thank you to the host @alanparrywriter.co.uk and
@thebrokenspine.co.uk and to all of the other writers.

#poetry #poem #writing #PoetryCommunity #BlueSkyPoets
letters never sent i keep writing you letters about a stone in my throat, about triangles— the way mistakes keep repeating in me. but letters always break apart. sometimes they begin: i am one useless excuse for a human being. sometimes they start with a recipe for cake without eggs, and a few lines from a favorite story— instructions for vanishing inside my own life. the words feel like glass in the envelope. i unfold it, let them fall.
November 7, 2025 at 12:34 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
owlnsquirrels1111.bsky.social
at the fringe of night
the sound of a
closing door
creaking
on
its failing hinges
& of crickets going quiet
& of
some bro-
ken
breaths
& lost s.l.nt counts
from one to ten to
to
naught
#PoemsAbout #lockeddoors #Oulens
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@karenpgonzalez.bsky.social
November 7, 2025 at 2:59 PM
gphydeauthor.bsky.social
Here's my offering for #PoemsAbout #LockedDoors from brokenspinearts.bsky.social

Thanks to EIC alanparry83.bsky.social

Photo by Muath Alsaeed on Unsplash

#vsspoem #poet #poetrycommunity
November 11, 2025 at 2:19 PM
gphydeauthor.bsky.social
Here’s my offering for the theme of #measure on the work of Arthur Wegener (1880-1930), the man who discovered tectonic plates- thanks go to Liz @young_liz our #vss365 host.
#vsspoem #poet #poetrycommunity
November 11, 2025 at 2:05 PM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
hool415.bsky.social
Hullo #vss365 and to #measure. An old one today.
A Half-Warming Stone A child’s death over a century ago, though without the eras knee-jerk florid penmanship of beloved, cherished or deeply missed, and absent any arthritic angels, stooped and bored looming as the inscription’s bower without the usual Jesus’ knifing, citing imperial rights trumpeting his cruel and premature call… parents stating loss so plainly, and who left a clue that their love was modern, softer than all the plumped-up, stony High Victoriana. The churchyard is scoured for any similar mark, yet only this tomb insists their child reached not six but that and a half. Love, unlike time is indivisible, but this fraction needed to record its fullest measure.
November 11, 2025 at 8:00 AM
gphydeauthor.bsky.social
Here's my offering for a wintery @TopTweetTuesday – thanks as ever to EIC @matthewmcsmith.bsky.social
#vsspoem #poet #poetrycommunity
November 11, 2025 at 8:20 AM
gphydeauthor.bsky.social
Responding to the #vss365 prompt ‘law’, here’s an old one of mine – it’s a palindrome-by-word i.e. the poem reverses the words from the midpoint of line 6. Thanks go to Liz @young_liz our #vss365 host.

#vsspoem #poet #poetrycommunity #palindrome
November 9, 2025 at 8:22 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
underbellypress.bsky.social
Poetry
Bradford Middleton ☆ Dan Husband ☆ @paddlerpress.bsky.social ☆ Erin Vance ☆ Ethan Clark ☆ Eve Lee ☆ @ewenglass.bsky.social ☆ Faith-Anne Bell ☆ @gphydeauthor.bsky.social ☆ @jdclappwrites.bsky.social ☆
@jfindura.bsky.social ☆ Joshua Walker ☆
November 8, 2025 at 1:07 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
underbellypress.bsky.social
Art & Photography
D.C. Nobes ☆ @gphydeauthor.bsky.social ☆ James Diaz ☆ Jill Eloise Vance ☆ Laurie Avadis ☆ Mide Miles ☆
November 8, 2025 at 1:08 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
paulwritespoems.bsky.social
Excited / nervous for this tomorrow night 🤩

Audience tickets still available 🎟️

www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/the-book-b...
November 8, 2025 at 2:12 PM
gphydeauthor.bsky.social
Here’s my offering for the theme of #language - thanks go to Liz @young_liz our #vss365 host.
#vsspoem #poet #poetrycommunity
November 8, 2025 at 3:24 PM
gphydeauthor.bsky.social
I’ve plundered my archives for this old piece for the theme of #history - thanks go to Liz @young_liz our #vss365 host.
#vsspoem #poet #poetrycommunity #anagram
November 7, 2025 at 9:07 AM
Reposted by Phil Hyde
underbellypress.bsky.social
Taste by @gphydeauthor.bsky.social

'‘Stand here,’ you say.
I look upon their naked bodies,
flayed, red-raw, denuded of their gnarled
and greying sheaths. We slip away,
follow our footsteps back inside.'
Issue 5 Teasers ‘Stand here,’ you say. I look upon their naked bodies, flayed, red-raw, denuded of their gnarled and greying sheaths. We slip away, follow our footsteps back inside. Taste GP Hyde Text is on a black background. Underbelly Press logo in the top right corner. In the background is an image of an orange leaf.
November 5, 2025 at 12:04 PM