Skip to content

Poetic Philosophy

    • About
    • Collaborative Poetry
    • Contact Us
    • Free poetic pictures
    • Poems and Articles
    • Poetic Philosophy Books
    • Poetic Philosophy Hub
    • Poetry Collections & Events
    • Submit your poem

  • Ephemeral life [October 2026]

    This poetry collection holds the poems submitted for the 8th Poetic Philosophy Gathering.

    To submit a poem for this collection, use the Submit Poem form.

    Event details

    Event Details

    2026 8th POETIC PHILOSOPHY GATHERING

    Date: Saturday, 31 October· 6:00 – 7:00 pm
    Time Zone: Europe/Athens
    Google Meet link: https://meet.google.com/ujq-tock-trx

    Facebook Event to register: https://fb.me/e/7zKqKCWeP

    Submit your poems with DM, comment here, or via the Poetic Philosophy Contact Us page!

    Submitted Poems

    This too

    Bliss, love, happiness

    Wrath, greed, grief, want, loss, gain

    All these too shall pass

    ~ Vasiliki Papadopoulou

    Sometimes…

    Sometimes I sit alone

    Listening to the world

    But I hear nothing

    Except of the things I am told

    Only when I start speaking

    Can I sense the silence of the words…

    ~ Spiros Kakos

    the gravefitsmy bodywell.

    it’s slightlyconcavedue to the coffinrotting down.

    there’s an indentout of the wind,and by 10 amthe sun is overthe estate agents’building,warming my spotfor sleep.

    later in the day,breakfastwas a can of lager,and last nighta litre of vodka.

    i’m lost.

    It’s a Sunday,andi’m close to you,and my spittleis in yourface.

    It’s October.

    the air is clearcold and freshthe sky a pastel bluefading at the edges

    the shadows ofpassing peoplelong and strong

    street signs stretchtheir shadowsacross the roadlosing their shape

    i stop at the Buttercross.

    And Smack head Samis sat.

    ‘It comes to find you,’he says.

    ~ psychic945247cf2b

    A flow, a river

    Temporal existence sweeps us along
    Time flows, pushing downstream
    One gets thrown about. We have problems
    is what I’m saying

    Occasionally a place of calm
    where there is no flow
    where there’s stillness instead

    The need to act stops
    so too doing this or that
    being this, that

    There’s calm and stillness
    there’s you
    No current pushing you

    Who do you want to be?
    Is it the you of dreams?

    The authentic you
    The timeless you

    Just let it be
    Just let it be

    Just

    ~ Harry Liantziris

    Pilgrimage

    A touch of mysticism surrounding the candle stand tonight!
    So many souls floodlit in front of my eyes,
    a tender mortal breeze enveloping vulnerable yet immortal echoes, whispering at this glorious promontory of hope, of union.

    Intangible yet viscerally felt is the voice of prayer this humid autumn moment of serenity.
    Genuine, all encompassing, superior.
    A velvety sight debunking every hue of pain dares to disperse flames of certainty around.
    He IS always with us all.

    Outside this hospitable chapel the melting candle wax transforms festively every thought into power, every absence into presence, every chaos into unity with the divine .
    Inexplicable yet more than gut feeling that this the domain where light equals life .

    ~ Maria Michael

    Climate

    Radio research,
    Sibilants express,
    Catastrophic climate.

    Barometric depressions,
    Mercurial storms,
    Unsustainable pressures.

    Present continuous,
    Imperative conditionals.
    Futures tense.

    ~ Fergal Canton

    The Firefly’s Prelude

    On my way home from work,
    I came to the dark plain of my senses,
    swollen with emotions.
    A firefly was always there,
    guiding travelers.

    The firefly led me across first.
    A little bit off the beaten path, we stopped.

    The stars heard our silence
    and blinked through my heart
    with a wish I had desired years earlier—
    now dipped in the blood of the night,
    piercing the pitch.

    While the firefly still whispered,
    my instinct spoke to the sky.
    The heavens urged me to collect the remains
    of the light and bind them to my heart.
    If I ever feared losing myself,
    this glow would win me back.
    I believed, and hid it away.

    Years passed.
    My mind taunted my skin,
    waking a quiet lust
    that held my flesh captive.

    When my eyes sank into
    an endless doldrum, I learned
    that false hope had destroyed my intent—
    because I wanted only life for myself.

    I was on the edge of nothingness,
    preparing a prayer to God,
    and I sent my spirit wild
    to search for a fine word for the prelude.
    Then, I remembered the firefly’s whisper.
    I spread the light across my thoughts,
    and it gave me sanity, yellow as lemon.

    ~ Ernesto P. Santiago

    no warning on my Departures

    Ι am speaking through
    the teeth of a stranger
    matter, no matter
    a stubborn rumor
    we insisted on the
    boundary of the skin
    but the skin is a sieve
    they passed through it
    with a click

      stay still

    i do no move you with
    my appearance
    whoever stands here is
    merely a pronoun
    borrowing a throat

    misidentified
    at the border of the page
    was that you or the wind

    the us among others
    no longer has a meaning

    a generous subtraction

    here or where the chair
    remembers the weight
    watch the door
    perhaps never arrived

    no warning on my Departures

    you are addressing
    a shift in the temperature
    from the silhouette
    of a passerby
    matter, no matter
    a collective superstition
    we demanded a hard
    edge to the ribs
    but the form is porous
    she slid through the prefix
    of her own name

       stay still

    i do no move you with
    my appearance
    whoever populates the coat
    is a temporary pronoun
    borrowing a face

    misidentified
    was that my hand or
    a shadow of a branch
    the difference is a luxury

    the us among others
    no longer has a meaning

    the ultimate charity
    is an unannounced
    Dissapearance

    ~ Adelina Burnescu

    WHO IS TIME

    Me, myself and I

    – who is time,
    Who is Time?

    The one who myself calls I,
    who is nothing more than Time,
    is it also in time?
    And if so, if it is the same as time,
    than why it denies
    this time as finite?

    This one who denies
    does he recognize
    that time is always already his
    and not its?

    Is he ready to stand close-by
    his only facticity of life
    and ask how is this time
    which makes me mine?

    This one who tells me he is time,
    the time same as mine, same as I,
    who mirrors himself in the face of the Other,
    is he ready to crucify his peace and admit
    that this time
    that we share,
    as nothing shareable,
    speaks of us
    as – it is time.

    And to question ourselves,
    whoever we might be,
    means no more than to make aware,
    to awake, our -being here –
    as nothing more, really nothing more
    than this already given time
    as Time to die.
    Time to cry and to demystify
    that we as time
    await nothing more
    than time itself to become
    in the face of death
    our innermost possibility.

    ~ Patrik Weiss

    ON THE ORIGIN OF SUFFERING

    being is a failure
    in the eyes of labourer God
    and there’s nothing we can hope for
    beyond our hepelessness

    ~ Patrik Weiss

    FROM COCAINE ADDICT WITH LOVE

    wrongly understood
    derogatory
    you the one who is pure
    is his finitude
    forever
    be gentle
    you cunt
    cunt you
    with the big C
    something that’s gonna be remembered
    as a bullet of uterus
    as an eater of placenta
    as a filler of urn
    glow
    where snows fail to fall
    suffer
    with your frozen fingertips
    touch your moist, blue lips
    and let your only end
    be your heaven
    when time starts
    to collapse

    ~ Patrik Weiss

    Untitled

    Two cubes intravenously
    the usual dose of unconditional love
    love me tenderly instantly
    while my wounds are healing, while…

    Love me honestly quietly
    being away from envious eyes
    while the blood runs over the veins
    you and I are diving into orgasm

    Two cubes intravenously
    every morning of love on an empty stomach
    love me tenderly instantly
    love me like no one
    has loved me before …

    ~ Bei Kateryna

    Untitled

    Life’s roller coaster ride doth rock an’ roll an’ stride,
    In, with but a gasp, for air, grasped, sucked,
    Drawn in,
    Despite it being so thickly thin,
    Expired, exhaled, sent forth
    Sucked in again without remorse nor rage
    Unthinkingly, ’til old age
    Have one last breath
    To life, a kiss of death!

    ~ Whizz Whizzo

    Untitled

    Carpe cogitationem and seize the time.
    The thread weaves. A sparkle
    of leaves in a piece of
    whispers. Once upon a time… the time
    here grows. Clocks the matter. A voice
    walks. A moment clothes the steps.
    A yearning
    crosses the distance. A wind
    kisses a hug.

    ~ Achina Styliani Michou

    Lullaby

    Go to sleep,
    My beloved Good.
    My dear Evil.
    My cherished children.
    Go to sleep, my little ones,
    The moon is already shining in the sky.

    You fight each other every day,
    Longer than my memory can reach.
    You delve so deeply into the world,
    Searching for new allies…
    You exist for the sake of fighting.
    You must be exhausted.

    My dear Evil,
    What more can I possibly tell you?
    You work yourself to the bone,
    In a world where people keep repeating
    That “evil never sleeps.”

    You seek out every opportunity,
    Whenever someone closes their eyes,
    Or simply looks the other way.
    And sometimes you don’t even wait,
    Longing for a spectacle.

    Sometimes you act for good reasons,
    As though you envied Good,
    And secretly wished to be just like it.

    My poor Good…
    It pains me greatly to see
    The state you’re in.
    In a world where evil never sleeps,
    You remain eternally vigilant.
    You never allow yourself to rest,
    Knowing that somewhere, you are needed.

    But even you can do too much.
    You want so desperately to protect the world
    That you see Evil where none exists.
    Sometimes I think you know more about it,
    Its inclinations and its ways of operating,
    Than you know about your own needs and abilities.
    Remember that you are not defined solely by
    What your brother is not.

    So go to sleep, my children,
    At least for this one night.
    Go to sleep,
    Defying what people believe.

    May you dream of
    A pride of lions bringing down an antelope,
    And the hyenas and vultures circling around them,
    A fork-tailed drongo chick
    Throwing its siblings out of the nest,
    Kites setting fire to
    The forests of Australia,
    A great grey shrike — the avian Vlad the Impaler,
    A female praying mantis
    Decapitating her lover post coitum,
    And other dreams of that kind.

    Let Evil fall asleep,
    So that Good, too, may sleep peacefully,
    And so that amid all the judgements, projections, and divisions,
    There might exist, if only for a moment,
    An untainted
    Raw
    Existence.

    ~ Rúnmadr

    October 13, 2026
    online poetry event, poetic event, Poetic Philosophy, Submitted Poems

  • The scar.

    Poem: The scar.

    Old scars heal
    But they are still there to feel
    You are not the person that you
    used to be
    But now you are someone
    So smile
    Babies are all the same
    Loved by all.
    No one to hate
    I’m not the same

    My birth was not when I left the womb
    But years later
    Yesterday
    The day before
    Tomorrow
    Every single scar
    Is what I am
    Full. Grown up. Mature.
    Laughing like a child.
    A child I only see when I smile.
    That is the scar I carry inside.

    12/10/2026

    October 13, 2026
    Humans, Poetic Philosophy, scars, Self

  • Obsidian life…

    Obsidian Life
    By Spiros Kakos (2026-10-03)

    A mad king
    Ruling the world
    With one word
    Me
    A baby he was born
    Unable to stand
    Every day growing strong
    A full man
    Doing all he can
    To show the world he can go far
    Now old
    Beyond the threshold of speaking anymore
    An obsidian scepter
    On his head
    Inside the grave there is nothing now
    Only a whisper
    Worms crawling inside passing on the message
    Everything dies
    But the old man abides
    The grown man still fights
    The baby cries
    The obsidian scepter is in other hands now
    Crying out loud
    He lived!
    Beyond the threshold of existence
    The small whisper of being becomes a roar
    Here I am!
    Behold!

    October 4, 2026
    life, poem, Poetic Philosophy, Poetry

Previous Page Next Page

~ Part of Harmonia Philosophica network ~

Loading Comments...
  • Subscribe Subscribed
    Poetic Philosophy
    Join 44 other subscribers

    Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.

  • Poetic Philosophy
    View site in Reader
    Manage subscriptionsSign upLog in
    Report this content
    Collapse this bar