Fiftywords
@fiftywords.bsky.social
Thinks too much and tries to make sense of the world’s chaos, beauty, and commas; mostly through poetry.
Much appreciated Paul
November 21, 2025 at 8:30 PM
Much appreciated Paul
Too generous as ever Rachel
November 21, 2025 at 8:15 PM
Too generous as ever Rachel
Thanks for that lovely summation of the poem
November 21, 2025 at 6:10 PM
Thanks for that lovely summation of the poem
Thanks for that Gary, I really appreciate those comments
November 21, 2025 at 3:57 PM
Thanks for that Gary, I really appreciate those comments
Thanks for such generous feedback
November 21, 2025 at 3:56 PM
Thanks for such generous feedback
That’s definitely worth considering, thanks
November 21, 2025 at 2:15 PM
That’s definitely worth considering, thanks
Thanks, that feedback means a lot
November 21, 2025 at 2:14 PM
Thanks, that feedback means a lot
Thank you, I’m so pleased you found something in it
November 21, 2025 at 2:07 PM
Thank you, I’m so pleased you found something in it
It didn’t occur to me but now you’ve said it, I see it 👍
November 21, 2025 at 1:48 PM
It didn’t occur to me but now you’ve said it, I see it 👍
Thanks Jan, really appreciate that
November 21, 2025 at 1:46 PM
Thanks Jan, really appreciate that
In turning a dog tag into a reliquary of the self, the poem asks what remains when life is reduced to metal, whether the imprint holds anything of the original heat.
November 21, 2025 at 12:46 PM
In turning a dog tag into a reliquary of the self, the poem asks what remains when life is reduced to metal, whether the imprint holds anything of the original heat.
A deft image of anxiety as the betrayal of one’s own terrain: firm ground turning fluid without warning, identity liquefying beneath the feet.
November 21, 2025 at 12:40 PM
A deft image of anxiety as the betrayal of one’s own terrain: firm ground turning fluid without warning, identity liquefying beneath the feet.
Its power lies in the pivot from domestic normality to military enumeration, counting not just tasks but lives, reduced to “blood group, service number, surname.”
November 21, 2025 at 12:37 PM
Its power lies in the pivot from domestic normality to military enumeration, counting not just tasks but lives, reduced to “blood group, service number, surname.”
A tender litany of seasons becomes a quiet ledger of love’s endurance, each name a term of endearment that slowly turns elegiac.
November 21, 2025 at 9:47 AM
A tender litany of seasons becomes a quiet ledger of love’s endurance, each name a term of endearment that slowly turns elegiac.
The final note reframes the poem’s grief within a long lineage of imperial machinery, identity reduced to metal, yet paradoxically made eternal by the act of bearing it.
November 21, 2025 at 9:45 AM
The final note reframes the poem’s grief within a long lineage of imperial machinery, identity reduced to metal, yet paradoxically made eternal by the act of bearing it.
A powerful example of how inherited memory holds both tenderness and terror; the geopolitical is present, but the emotional engine is familial loyalty
November 21, 2025 at 8:58 AM
A powerful example of how inherited memory holds both tenderness and terror; the geopolitical is present, but the emotional engine is familial loyalty
Thanks Sue, glad it worked out
November 21, 2025 at 8:55 AM
Thanks Sue, glad it worked out
Beautifully intimate: the battleground is the home, not the state, though the vocabulary of wargames and neutrality creates an echo of larger political tensions without insisting on them.
November 21, 2025 at 8:53 AM
Beautifully intimate: the battleground is the home, not the state, though the vocabulary of wargames and neutrality creates an echo of larger political tensions without insisting on them.
Its satire bites hardest in the final lines: humanity as a species only fit for souvenirs.
November 21, 2025 at 7:31 AM
Its satire bites hardest in the final lines: humanity as a species only fit for souvenirs.
The poem’s pivot from sitcom to atrocity is brilliantly handled; nostalgia fractures into historical grief.
November 21, 2025 at 7:30 AM
The poem’s pivot from sitcom to atrocity is brilliantly handled; nostalgia fractures into historical grief.
A haunting reimagining of dog tags as witnesses, stark, intimate, and quietly devastating.
November 21, 2025 at 7:28 AM
A haunting reimagining of dog tags as witnesses, stark, intimate, and quietly devastating.
Thanks for your thoughtful comments John
November 21, 2025 at 7:14 AM
Thanks for your thoughtful comments John