#HopeIsAFlame
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The hate is loud. The fight feels long. And yeah- some days hope and fatigue sit in the same chair. We don’t kneel to cruelty. We name it. We survive it. We outlast it.

Here’s a few poems from the slow burn. For the tired, the alive. 💙

#Poetry #BlueskyPoets #Resist #WritersOfBluesky #HopeIsAFlame
This poem is about the resilience of a soul that refuses to stay caged- the kind of fire that won’t go out, even when the world tries to break you. It’s about connection, rebellion, and finding your way back to the fight when everything feels lost. Broken Rebel Heart I shout against the walls that cage my mind, A storm of fire that cannot be contained. The shadows whisper truths I cannot find, A restless soul by endless doubt unchained. Your voice ignites the embers in my chest, A battle cry that breaks the silent night. We run the edges where the wild hearts rest, Two broken flames that hunger for the light. Yet in the chaos, still a fragile thread A tether holding hope against the fall. Through shattered dreams and words we left unsaid, We rise again, defying every wall. In rebel hearts and echoes loud and true, We find the strength to start again anew. This poem reflects on love, memory, and presence that remains long after people are gone. It’s quiet and tender—about how some lights, both literal and emotional, stay with us even when everything else moves on. ⸻ The Light that Lingers The porchlight hums against the dark, where moths still burn for something bright. A ghost of warmth, a final spark but never quite enough for flight. Footsteps press where others fade, the wooden boards still know their weight. A love not lost, but merely stayed a shadow bent but never late. The night forgets, but not the glow, a filament of something true. We learn to leave, but still we know the light remains when we are through. This poem is for the wanderers, the dreamers, the ones still chasing meaning through all the noise and ruin. It’s about finding your own rhythm in a fractured world, and following your own stars—even when the map falls apart. ⸻ Footprints on the Moon The skyline hums with an aching sound, A hymn for the wanderers unbound. The years have weathered, the edges worn, But from the wreckage, new life is born. Every chord’s a step on a fragile stair, Climbing toward something that isn’t there. A bittersweet fire runs through my veins, A melody steeped in pleasure and pain. The world is vast, but it fits my song, A place for the restless, the right, the wrong. So I walk alone, but the stars still shine, Guiding my steps to a fate that’s mine. The road may crumble, the path may stray, But I’ll keep singing come what may. This poem is a quiet tribute to resilience. Inspired by the image of an old oak standing through storms and seasons, it speaks to the kind of strength that doesn’t shout—but lasts. It’s about endurance, rootedness, and the quiet power of simply staying. Tall Old Oak Beneath the sky, a tall old oak stands still, Its branches reach as if to touch the blue. The leaves are whispers, stirring soft and shrill, A thousand stories told, yet always new. Its roots stretch deep, entangled in the soil, A silent testament to years endured. Through storms and seasons, steadfast in its toil, A silent pillar in the world’s vast blur. Its bark is scarred by battles time has fought, Yet still, it stands, unmoved by what has passed. The wisdom in its shade can’t all be taught, For in its silence, it remains steadfast. The oak endures, a constant through the wild A symbol of the strength that’s born in trials.
July 8, 2025 at 12:57 PM