Poeaxtry's Prism

Spell. Stone. & Sparks that Ignite Change

Tag: winter poetry

  • Hopeless Holiday | Day 2 of 100 Days of Poetry

    Hopeless Holiday | Day 2 of 100 Days of Poetry

    The holidays have a strange way of resurfacing old versions of ourselves. The child who waited. The belief that good things arrived simply because we hoped hard enough. For many of us, that version feels distant now, replaced by a quieter, more guarded endurance.

    This poem is not about celebration. It’s about survival during a season that insists on cheer, even when hope feels rationed. Day two of writing and posting one poem a day is about naming that shift honestly, without pretending it doesn’t exist.

    Hopeless Holiday

    This year’s “holiday cheer”

    is nostalgic in a way I’ve come to

    fear.

    Though,

    I used to wait for Santa,

    sitting still, filled with untamable

    hope.

    Now it seems the hope he brings

    is more about having at least one thing

    left to hope for at all.

    Being hopeless on Christmas

    would have to be worse than this.

    Poet’s Note

    This poem isn’t about Santa, and it isn’t about religion or tradition. Santa exists here as a symbol of effortless hope, the kind we’re given as children without conditions, without proof, without fear of disappointment.

    As adults, hope changes. It becomes smaller, more deliberate. Sometimes it’s not about joy at all, but about refusing to let everything go dark at once. This piece lives in that space, where hope hasn’t vanished, but it no longer arrives freely.

    Hope doesn’t always look like joy. Sometimes it looks like refusal. Sometimes it looks like staying present through a season that hurts, instead of opting out completely.

    This poem holds that tension without resolving it, because not everything needs to be resolved to be honest. Day two is about acknowledging that hope can shrink and still matter, especially during the holidays.

    Day one. Links. Portfolio.

  • 100 Poems in 100 Days, Joining the Threads Poetry Challenge With Ice

    100 Poems in 100 Days, Joining the Threads Poetry Challenge With Ice

    Every so often, a simple idea creates a creative avalanche. I’m hoping that this will be that.

    Write a poem a day.

    But do it for one hundred days.

    Then share it publicly.

    No paywall, no panel of judges, no polished submission packets, no gatekeeping. Just writers showing up where they are, writing through whatever weather they’re standing in.

    I’m joining in.

    Not because I want more pressure, or because I think productivity equals worth, but because poetry thrives on repetition, attention, and witness. A poem a day doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to exist. It has to respond. It has to mark time. It is practice, which we all have been told makes perfect!

    For indie poets, marginalized writers, and creatives working outside institutional publishing, challenges like this matter. They create visible momentum. They pull poetry out of private notes apps and put it back into conversation. They remind us that poetry isn’t precious, it’s necessary.

    This post documents my entry into the challenge, and it begins with day one, where else?

    Day One of One Hundred

    “Ice”

    It’s cold outside,

    my desire is on fire,

    something more just out of

    r

    e

    a

    c

    h.

    The plows came through these

    Appalachian city streets,

    though the ice stayed

    Immigrant mothers pray

    for their brothers,

    others try to feed their

    families.

    No matter the kind,

    crushed ice

    is my favorite.

    Poet’s Note

    This poem lives in the overlap between weather and policy.

    Between what freezes naturally and what is enforced.

    Ice shows up twice here. Once as winter, salt trucks, plows, and streets that look cleared but still aren’t safe. The other time as ICE, immigration enforcement, the quiet terror that doesn’t melt when the roads do.

    Crushed ice is impact. It’s aftermath. It’s what happens when something large and heavy moves through a place and leaves fragments behind.

    I didn’t want to explain the metaphor inside the poem. I wanted it to sit unresolved, because that’s how it exists in real life. Some people experience winter. Others experience surveillance. Sometimes it’s both, at the same time, in the same city.

    Why This Challenge Matters to Me

    Writing a poem every day for one hundred days isn’t about proving discipline. It’s about practicing attention. About letting the world interrupt me and answering back in language.

    As an indie publisher, poet, and community builder through Poeaxtry and The Prism, I care deeply about visibility for small voices, especially voices that don’t get invited into traditional literary rooms. A public challenge hosted on a platform like Threads lowers the barrier to entry. It lets poets write in public without asking permission.

    This is also about sustainability. One poem a day is manageable. It fits between work shifts, hikes, grief, anger, and ordinary survival. Over time, those daily poems become a record, not just of craft, but of living through a specific stretch of history.

    If you’re participating too, or considering it, this is your nudge. You don’t need permission. You don’t need an audience. You just need to start.

    One poem today.

    Then another tomorrow.

    Links portfolio