Saturday April 11th 2.00. Poetry Upstairs at the Inn on the Green. Bristol BS7 0PA Just open mic (and no actual mic ). One poem, if time for two 2nd to be by someone else, or just come and listen
This is my cyclical reminder that there's really only one consistently reliable source of info in the public record that isn't owned by right wing billionaires, who really want to put an end to it.
Please give at least the $2.75 minimum they request if you can.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page
Street! Poems about our local streets to listen to at 13 Bristol libraries (including Horfield). Info & app link forwardartsfoundation.org/event/street/ Poems from those of us who’ve contributed can also be heard on BBC Upload on Thursday between 6-8pm, or after on listen again
Verifiable info to counter some of the myths around immigration (Inc 1 in 5 NHS workers is a migrant)
Oh, quick, very soon! There may still be open mic slots. See you there 🌹
Poems from 'Migrations,' my Blueprint Poetry Press pamphlet on Thurs 6.30pm BBC Radio Gloucestershire & BBC Radio Wiltshire from 6pm and from 6:30pm on BBC Radio Bristol & BBC Radio Somerset!
and again Saturday 6-8pm #poetry #poems #poetrycommunity
Many thanks Blueprint Poetry Press. Publication probably January, do spread the word, launch etc details soon #poems #poetry #poetrycommunity
Found poem. I call this one Approach of Winter. Stay tuned for news of the easily readable Migrations from Blueprint Poetry Press #poems #poetry #poetrycommunity
Come along! Virtually, to the launch of Migrations, my poetry pamphlet from Blueprint Poetry Press. Details below for how. Copies from [email protected] #poetry #poetrycommunity #poems
Khashoggi's Ghost
Two excellent poems from Dominic Fisher today. Happy #NationalPoetryDay
@poetrydayuk.bsky.social @domfishpoet.bsky.social
Dominic Fisher Poetry
Dominic Fisher Poetry
Dominic Fisher Poetry
Dominic Fisher Poetry
Dominic Fisher Poetry
Dominic Fisher Poetry
Dominic Fisher Poetry
Dominic Fisher Poetry
Glass wing Smooth between finger and thumb in the earthbut still jagged, a piece of bottle glassrefracts as you lift it and find it holdsa bubble like the absence of a seed. I don’t know what I’m doing, what it meansto be coming back here day after day. On a stalk, dessicated-looking, dead, a moth passes for a scrap of dry leaf.
