Sue Ibrahim
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sueimnw.bsky.social
Sue Ibrahim
@sueimnw.bsky.social
560 followers 210 following 2.2K posts
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Reading, writing, birds

Also at sueimnw.blogspot.com
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Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
hool415.bsky.social
@rfsmith.bsky.social @dragonslayerma.bsky.social @thewombwellrainbow.bsky.social
@victoriaspires.bsky.social I’m hosting #promptcombo this week.Use the #promptcombo and post me @hool415.bsky.social for the theme of #workinglove Anything on love, work or a mix of both! All welcome till 5pm Friday!!
Working Love I fell for you in work amid the photocopier’s paparazzi-flashing, had no control over seating so, between floors giddy elevator conversations snatched. Once, outside, during a fire evacuation test I stood by you, aware my ruddy-face was so obviously smouldering. Hold the note you gave me for supposed help on an urgently demanded spinning-hamster-wheel type task, just a rather economical: ‘Thank you v v much’ but I imagined that first word unexpectedly promoted and H.R. formally introducing its shyest new replacement: Love. Since that day to my certain knowledge you’ve never used ‘v v’ again… though I make sure those twanging Cupid arrowheads are near daily kept still in play.
November 9, 2025 at 7:42 PM
sueimnw.bsky.social
For this week's #promptcombo #workinglove with very understanding host @hool415.bsky.social , an old one which I think fits. Look forward to reading others later.
November 10, 2025 at 7:53 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
davgar51.bsky.social
replies Sunday, I am tied up tomorrow, so in time here is my poem about #ClosedDoors for #PoemsAbout
#Poetry #MyEx
A poem entitled Closed Door I know the night it opened and how life looked up like a Woodpigeon clattering off its nest or a thundercloud's electrons coming home but not one instant so more like a tide racing across the sand with small waders in constant surprise & rush reeling, wheeling around to find peace in the marram grass, comfort in huddle & safety. Yes, that was the night— not much sleep, but deep. But which was the night it shut? I'll never know and you won't say but for sure it was years before the day you crossed a line and I walked out through a closed door, at least a door I thought was closed then I pushed it shut from outside and it was.
November 7, 2025 at 9:47 PM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
merrildsmith.bsky.social
Good morning! A poem for #PoemsAbout #LockedDoors. This is a revision of an old poem. Thank you, as always to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk for these weekly prompts!
Poem Threshold The massive door has always been locked until now it stands slightly open like parted lips whispering yes. You imagine a turquoise sky, peach sorbet clouds— the opposite of this grey-shrouded world. You touch the weathered wood dotted with knotted eyes, wonder how far eternity is-- how wide? How deep? But there is the latch, undone, there is the handle, so, you inhale, exhale, and pull-- a sea-salt breath brushes your skin as you step over the sill. No more doors. No more locks. This is where your life begins.
November 7, 2025 at 11:59 AM
sueimnw.bsky.social
For this week's #PoemsAbout #LockedDoors with thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk and all those participating. Not what I thought I'd write...
November 7, 2025 at 6:31 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
#wildwalkprompt #clogged @rfsmith.bsky.social
#Storm #RhymeRoyal #poem #Writing
November 5, 2025 at 9:10 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
zoomburst.substack.com
With #poetry on topics as diverse as trees, stamp collecting and becoming a satsuma, Peter Fereday becomes the 86th poet to be admitted to the Order of the #SixtyOdd. A worthy addition to its ranks.
86. Peter Fereday
Guitar playing poet who is also a chorister.
sixtyoddpoets.substack.com
November 2, 2025 at 11:15 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
jumpingjulespoetry.bsky.social
From my poem To my Therapist from the Comfort Zone anthology published by @dragonflyflight.bsky.social. Many thanks, such a great read 🙂
November 3, 2025 at 9:44 AM
sueimnw.bsky.social
For this week's #PromptCombo #Storm with @rfsmith.bsky.social - will catch up with others later.
November 3, 2025 at 8:50 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
janeburn.bsky.social
I am having a small personal celebration - 19 months of dedicated work has led me to my 100th Substack article - it feels like an achievement to me :-)

burnj.substack.com/p/the-univer...
The University of the Self #100
Birdsong, Botany and Betterness Part 27
burnj.substack.com
October 26, 2025 at 5:10 PM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
paulwritespoems.bsky.social
@merrildsmith.bsky.social fantastic collection Held Inside The Folds of a time is in The Book Bag today. Published by @janes-studio.bsky.social

Plus all the regular shouts/news/opps and playlist

@blackboughpoetry.bsky.social
@fullhouselitmag.bsky.social @eatthestorms.com
paulwritespoems.bsky.social Paul @paulwritespoems.bsky.social · 9d
The Book Bag is Held Inside The Folds Of Time this week. A fantastic collection by Merril D Smith, published by Jane's Studio Press.
A fantastic collection with pieces that cling to the mind like a fine November drizzle. A perfect gift for the festive season.

Plus news, shoutouts and playlist
The Book Bag: Held Inside The Folds Of Time by Merril D. Smith
Welcome back to The Book Bag. I hope you’ve had a poetic week. Well, this has been a week. On Sunday, I attended the Black Bough open mic and read a couple of pieces. I then had a half day leave from work on Monday where we took Brody to the vets for a checkup and boosters. He’s healthy but he really doesn’t like the vets. Yesterday, the excellent Full House Literary launched their new issue, which contains one of my poems. I’m beyond happy to share pages with incredible writers.
paulwritespoems.com
November 2, 2025 at 8:55 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
rburrows.bsky.social
Dear #PoemsAbout #PromptCombo and poetry friends - you normally see my adult poetry on Bluesky. If you would like to find out more about my children’s stuff, please check this out! 😊 #kidlituk #kidlit #writingforchildren Thanks @littlethoughtspress.com #interview
November 1, 2025 at 11:32 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
andywilliamson.com
Here's a quick, possibly tenuous poem for #poemsabout #blood this week. Huge appreciation to @alanparrywriter.co.uk & @thebrokenspine.co.uk for the opportunity and to all the poets for their great posts #poems #poetry
Once winter passes your words are resolute in their anger their exactness drawing blood you carry destruction as an art, a weapon I turn away look beyond frosted windows to wonder at the winter-white and star-spun sky above at the world beyond what it will bring once winter passes
October 31, 2025 at 10:51 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
merrildsmith.bsky.social
Good morning! Happy Halloween! For #PoemsAbout #Blood
This is also for a prompt where the first line comes from a horror movie--this one "The Sixth Sense." We're seeing Macbeth this weekend, so there may be more blood poems! Thank you @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk
Poem: Blood and Fiddles I see dead people, rooftop fiddlers and Chagall souls floating like speech balloons waiting for their frame-- artists, musicians, lovers, and practical idealists, they enter my dreams, my mother, my father, a caretaker who talks of her dissertation on Einstein and divorce, it’s relativity, I say— he also being Jewish and dead— like my parents and their parents, my ancestors, their DNA carried with traces of stardust in my cells, giving me curly hair and nearsighted light eyes, a recessive negative blood RH to balance my normal positivity, and through all the blood lost and recreated, blood spilled and regenerated, the bow glides across strings of generations my great greats who traveled continents and oceans so I could live where I do, be who I am, (I hope that’s still true.) I see you hovering. Rest. It’s OK. I’ll be all right. Blood and Fiddles I see dead people, rooftop fiddlers and Chagall souls floating like speech balloons waiting for their frame-- artists, musicians, lovers, and practical idealists, they enter my dreams, my mother, my father, a caretaker who talks of her dissertation on Einstein and divorce, it’s relativity, I say— he also being Jewish and dead— like my parents and their parents, my ancestors, their DNA carried with traces of stardust in my cells, giving me curly hair and nearsighted light eyes, a recessive negative blood RH to balance my normal positivity, and through all the blood lost and recreated, blood spilled and regenerated, the bow glides across strings of generations my great greats who traveled continents and oceans so I could live where I do, be who I am, (I hope that’s still true.) I see you hovering. Rest. It’s OK. I’ll be all right.
October 31, 2025 at 10:31 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
throwawayreg.bsky.social
morning Friday here’s my little “throwaway” poem for #PoemsAbout #Blood and thanks to
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#poets #poetry
and thank you for stopping here and reading 🙋‍♂️
have a great weekend everyone everywhere 🚶🏽‍➡️🚮
October 31, 2025 at 10:04 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
davidbirch.bsky.social
Many thanks @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk for today's #PoemsAbout prompt #Blood. I look forward to reading everyone's submissions later #BlueSkyPoets #PoetryCommunity
October 31, 2025 at 9:27 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
bernp.bsky.social
As always my thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk for hosting #PoemsAbout #Blood look forward to seeing all this the other poets in this wonderful community's work
NO MAN’S LAND Go across to this place, Where the eye is cold And the sky is hard And the tree is inexplicably Still there. Where the tears of birds Fall unnoticed to the ground. Journey to a room, Look down at the jigsaw Bits and Bobs of bodies that litter the floor, as if tossed By a naughty child in A stranger’ s house. No use crying over spilt milk But this is spilt blood. Here is the watched pot, That boils. See the mud and limbs Stew in foxholes, Listen to the ratshustle About their business. Hear the boy without His bow and arrow now Whistle ‘God Save the King’ Through a hole In the back of his head. © Bernard Pearson
October 31, 2025 at 8:30 AM
sueimnw.bsky.social
For this week's #PoemsAbout #Blood @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk an old poem which I wanted to post about now and it fits here, I think, so... (first published by Indigo Dreams)
October 31, 2025 at 6:59 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
johnadlam.bsky.social
I wholly forgot #LiftToTheSky last week! I meant to and now do raise up the learned and irrepressible @zoomburst.substack.com, capo of the long-running Sixty Odd Poets, who did a fab gig at the Colony Room, downstairs at Ziggy Green, Saturday before last. A joy to behold! 🙏❤️
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
October 20, 2025 at 12:04 PM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
merrildsmith.bsky.social
Take 2 for #PoemsAbout #BreakingTheMould We're terrified the mold might break! Originally published in Fevers of the mind and in my new poetry collection. @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk @karenpgonzalez.bsky.social with thanks!
Thanksgiving, the Year of Covid-19 We passed the dish of memory, transferring without touching the squirrel-shaped mold, its ceramic a bit care-worn, appearing empty, though we knew it was full of recollections and dreams, tart and sweet, like the cranberry sauce that once filled it, and would do so again. Now these thoughts of past Thanksgivings, filled it, dripping over to fall in tears. It won’t be the same, we say, and do you remember? Her laugh, our laughs together-- not together this year. Photo of a cranberry sauce squirrel on a white china plate with a gold rim.
October 17, 2025 at 4:12 PM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
zoomburst.substack.com
#PoemsAbout #breakthemould
1 And it is written that the creator of all things did spawn man and woman by pouring the waters of the river of life into an immaculate mould and freezing them into perfect forms 2 And Lo, the first men and women were shaken from the mould by the almighty hand and placed in climates suitable for them to grow and multiply. 3 And being from the same mould the first men and women were identical in every respect, apart from the markings of their gender. 4 And they did live in harmony together as no disagreements came between them, so perfectly matched were they. 5 But it came to pass that an agent of chaos stole the mould from the creator of all things and did stomp it underfoot with viciousness and vehemence before returning it from whence he had gotten it. 6 From that day forth all iterations of man and women were different and separate, having come from a broken mould 7 And misunderstanding, discord and strife came to pass over the face of the Earth. 8 And yet from this state of affairs came individuality, imagination and creativity as the ill moulded people strove for the harmony that they had once enjoyed. 9 And as the extremes of woe and misery were let loose on the earth, so were the extremes of joy and delight. 10 And the creator of all things saw that this had come to pass but was wise enough to let things be, for the agent of chaos was also a part of creation
October 17, 2025 at 8:36 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
janedougherty47.bsky.social
Good morning @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk This is my contribution to the #PoemsAbout prompt #breakthemould
#poetry
October 17, 2025 at 6:56 AM
sueimnw.bsky.social
For this week's #PoemsAbout #BreakTheMould with thanks to host @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk and everyone taking part.
October 17, 2025 at 5:56 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
sueimnw.bsky.social
Hi Mike, thought you might like this one - recently published in The Starbeck Orion.
October 16, 2025 at 8:12 AM
Reposted by Sue Ibrahim
zoomburst.substack.com
Sometimes a bit of Anglo Saxon invective is the only thing that will do, even in the world of formal #poetry...

...actually, especially in the world of formal poetry
50. Just Another Fucking Villanelle
...being a back handed homage to yet another poetic forme fixe
zoomburst.substack.com
October 16, 2025 at 7:40 AM