trending #poetry posts on Hive

Setting Suns

tarazkp — Sat, 03 Oct 2026 19:45:30 GMT

Setting Suns

Once rose dreams of a forever home,
A place head can lay and heart can rest.
Comfort from cold where gardens bloom,
Protected from long past brokenness.

Dancing across forest brimmed lakes
Arise it did with beauty and grace,
Petals fell and dried upon the floor,
With only thorns left in their place.

Home is a simple choice to make,
Complication is for the confused.
Walls are not the bricks it takes,
Home is with someone you choose.

Days come and bleed into the night,
And the night bleeds back into the day.
Sunrise or sunset is much the same,
What is home when you cannot stay.

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PARÁFRASIS DEL NÁUFRAGO | Poesía [ES/EN]

roswelborges — Sun, 04 Oct 2026 04:04:03 GMT

![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmSPbkBXaomwpA7yNXtAHieUXBLQJTq7knGiEbkbzVRGce/1791065040265.jpg)

Apagar un cigarro
con los ojos debajo del agua,
correr descalzo por los arrecifes,
aguantar el aire,
buscar arena con los pies
cubiertos de heridas,
silbar el nombre
de la última ballena que vio el atardecer,
es quizá
lo que decía aquella carta
del náufrago
en su botella.

¡Muchas gracias por tu visita!

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![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmSPbkBXaomwpA7yNXtAHieUXBLQJTq7knGiEbkbzVRGce/1791065040265.jpg)

Extinguishing a cigarette
underwater,
running barefoot across the reefs,
holding one’s breath,
searching for sand with feet
covered in wounds,
whistling the name
of the last whale to see the sunset—
that is perhaps
what was written in that letter
from the castaway
in his bottle.

[![2dk2RRM2dZ8gKjXsrozapsD83FxL3Xbyyi5LFttAhrXxr16mCe4arfLHir9abEcfyUJdne2NmRpPev8XTWsNCo7d7QfjJweYZDGExmMB2f8Y8LJas2JagQetrn9vWVbZdCAfCUaoDLo2QcwREf41XPyKaPJMFsVnuxggjgWPbb.gif](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/eduardo900613/23u6aqopSakivScD67MLE749mXZcXDsSwcsogwBvE9x53XJaQQXLxiEwxzysfFGnGz3FB.gif)](https://vote.hive.uno/@hivecuba)

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An Ode to Autumn

litguru — Fri, 02 Oct 2026 22:14:45 GMT

Dashes of yellow, orange, red
Green undertones and earthy browns
Gray pastels turn to rain
In light of diminishing returns
That softer hues veil the end of day
When dusk embraces night in play.

The lanterns flicker in the forest dark
That light the fairy glades;
Gnomes and nymphs gather for a festive season.
Apple cider warm and pumpkin pies for good measure- they brought garlands for a reason
Stories told and sung in vexing verses
The sound so sweet and muddled
On the twisted tongues
Like silver tinkling bells
That ring announcing harvest rites
To gather once again and dance
Share the bounty of the land
With smiles, hugs, and kisses.

The poppies glowing red in remembrance
Of those who did not attend the feast;
For they sailed over the sea one day
So that gnomes and nymphs may live in peace.

In the night the fires flicker
And keep at bay the ghosts and ghouls,
Who trick or treat in frosty shadows
With moonlit damsels wearing masks
Summoning ethereal spirits
To haunt the grounds of the realm
Howling in the meadows.

Clouds parting in the mountain mist,
With bluer skies revealed
Where eagles swiftly glide
-Keenly keep an eye-
From brilliant distant skies
A bear that’s balanced on the log below
As frisky salmon hop
For a moment remain still
Around him
In the swiftly flowing stream.

![Enchanted Autumn Festival Tableau2.JPEG](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/litguru/23wC9UzZaXW3x3XMixtSHA7t8wTJgP7XGYwwHNR1dhx5gBXq9eVxyPAeywsJJJvbqoAbJ.JPEG)*Image generated by @litguru using AI software*

Llegando a destiempo | Poesía [ES/EN]

roswelborges — Sat, 03 Oct 2026 04:03:03 GMT

![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmQoLnTyDR3jmiLUvSp2yXJQwArvk4YFjhVutrLoKfkADT/1790949796261.jpg)

Las calles oscuras,
una mujer pegada a la pared
para que no la miren,
pero queriendo
porque lleva sus faldas cortas
y los senos provocando el pecado,
camina de prisa;
un mendigo,
con un perro en una caja,
va dialogando
sobre la capacidad de amar a las mascotas,
dice que
en solo cinco días
uno llega a amarlas.
El parque,
también oscuro,
como oscuro
el canto de pájaros
que van llegando a destiempo,
pero llegan,
cantan a su modo,
ocupan los mismos puestos
que sus padres,
y los padres de éstos,
y otros padres más atrás
en otros vuelos,
como si todo dependiera
del árbol preciso.

¡Muchas gracias por tu visita!

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![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmQoLnTyDR3jmiLUvSp2yXJQwArvk4YFjhVutrLoKfkADT/1790949700086.jpg)

The dark streets,
a woman pressed against the wall
to avoid being seen,
yet wanting to be,
for she wears short skirts
and breasts that invite sin,
walking briskly;
a beggar,
with a dog in a box,
conversing
about the capacity to love pets,
saying that
in just five days
one comes to love them.
The park,
also dark,
as dark
as the song of birds
arriving out of sync,
yet they arrive,
singing in their own way,
taking the same perches
as their parents,
and their parents' parents,
and other parents further back
in other flights,
as if everything depended
on that precise tree.

I invite you to visit the project DRIP - WITNESS NODE - BPUD https://images.hive.blog/240x0/https://img.inleo.io/DQmR9vdBY6yEPCXa9ZesNs3dBMhyMUf9erdY2ToFgoRkDBk/image.png

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The Magic Tree - Poetry Inspired by Nature

raj808 — Fri, 02 Oct 2026 18:33:00 GMT

My first memory of climbing this wonderful 150 year old Weeping Willow was at the tender age of seven years old one sunny afternoon while picnicking at the nearby fairy glen in Sefton Park.

The magic tree has long been a legend where I grew up in the area of Liverpool 8. A pilgrimage for children and disgruntled teenager alike, she welcomes all in her loving boughs with acceptance and fortitude.

The tree has grown in a way that encourages climbing with a spiders web of branches and woody thrones at the top of the tree. Honestly, it is almost like the spirit of this tree has grown the most comfy seats to encourage humans to rest among its leafy canopy.

You can never be sure who you'll meet climbing the magic tree. One balmy sunny afternoon when I was ten years old we met four nineteen year old punks drinking cider 😆 They begrudgingly accepted us until our incessant questions pissed them off and we were glared at until we left.

I remember other times encountering local hippies drumming, Rastas with portable stereos perfuming the air with spliff smoke and sometimes other kids who would inspire massive ten person games of hide & seek.

As time passed I turned into one of those disgruntled teenagers and used to often sit in the magic tree with friends smoking it up with a beer and a bag of herbal produce.

Throughout my life I have returned to the magic tree to climb and sit in meditation. Trees hold a special place in my personal spiritual practice. Their spirit breathes the most settling presence into the environment, and if we listen they can teach us how to live in acceptance.

If you look at trees beyond the microscope of science, in a much broader way they show us a perfect example of living in harmony with the world while attaining all that you need.

Trees have been here long before us, and if we don't completely destroy this planet that we call home together, they'll be here long after we've gone. They sit in harmony with everything around them in a way that humans find difficult.

Please do check out the video poem I made below as it speaks to all this so much better than I can in simple prose.

The poem is my email/letter to the magic tree.

All pictures were taken in and around the magic tree, the animation was a labor of love (it took me two days to get it right) using GIMP & AdobePro.

https://youtu.be/wfi7YtQy91k

https://steemitimages.com/DQmaiuGasc2vGC6wrf3Nu7Su5GTzNSx9UJGuApEhdjAZvzU/9.png

The music used in the video is creative commons license [link to source,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WW97qPKm35A) everything else is designed by me using GIMP photo editor and adobe pro.If you have enjoyed this post, please check out my homepage @raj808. Thank you.

https://steemitimages.com/DQmaiuGasc2vGC6wrf3Nu7Su5GTzNSx9UJGuApEhdjAZvzU/9.png

![Footer_raj808.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmR9jsWzjo9vp2N7CWX7RuNGk4s2D2p5HctzLFXxtgzHoy/Footer_raj808.png)

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Locura es ignorar lo que la realidad grita al oído (Poesía) [ESP/ENG] Madness is ignoring what reality screams in your ear

poetisotizo — Fri, 02 Oct 2026 06:31:27 GMT

Descubro lo que oculté en las piedras del pasado
Detrás de arbustos enredados entre las neuronas dormidas
Lo que es lógico es la joya a buscar en medio de la incertidumbre
Los momentos de insatisfacción que se escondieron entre el monte.

Avisos de precaución siempre salen a relucir en el norte
En el sur los momentos que ya no se pueden describir
En el este mi alma suspira por un mundo distinto y mejor
En el oeste los aullidos de los lobos se oyen a lo lejos.

Origen de la imagen

Inexplicable es lo que en el aire se siente y se ve pululando
Insondable es lo que la gente necia trata de explicar en su vaivén
Icónico es el momento más irreverente que se ha vivido en años
Incomparable es el sueño anhelado una vez que se ha conseguido.

Sensaciones que confunden la realidad de hechos y deseos
Desnudez mental que trae a colación nuevas e intensas metas
Lo que no logro explicar tiene su propio sentido y razón
Lo que muchos no entienden es que mi corazón tiene su propio ritmo y sazón.

Origen de la imagen

Levedad del ser en la que ya no quiero pensar
Día a día se hace evidente al ver el tiempo pasar
Locura es ignorar lo que la realidad grita al oído
Curiosidad es hablar al unísono de campanas sonando.

Un momento, una hora, un día, una paz
Ya no sé ni lo que digo ni por qué lo he de afirmar
Escribo una carta invisible, sin destinatario ni intención
Me vuelvo uno con mis pensamientos y el dolor interno decrece.

Origen de la imagen

Esperanza, último remanente de esta caja de Pandora que es la vida
Dulzura, de momentos que con los años se han vuelto amargos y oscuros
Distinta se ha vuelto la vida, pero no necesariamente mejor ni más placentera
Cien mil pasos en la dirección correcta no me han llevado a donde quiero.

Una luz al final, en el horizonte, parece titilar
Todos los sinsentidos parecen ahora validarse
Todo el tiempo perdido y las horas estresantes
Todo tiene la profundidad de un sentido lógico elegante.

Estoica es mi decisión de no sucumbir a la miseria y la desesperación
Viene de mi mente y mi paz interior mi más profunda convicción
Los ríos de tenacidad vienen a vencer los mares de problemas
Cambiarán el sabor del agua, y lo harán mezclándose con ellos.

Origen de la imagen

Una resolución, un momento, un camino y una idea que caminan juntas
Lo que no quiero ver ahora es la ruta que persigo, aunque me lo niegue a mí mismo
Sigo en mi obstinada lucha por resarcir mis aspiraciones de tiempos inmemoriales
Detrás de sueños de antaño suspendidos al punto de casi haber sido olvidados.

La pobreza que me sigue, siempre ha sido mi más fiel compañera
He creído que es mi enemiga, pero nunca se ha apartado de mi lado
Lucho por vencer la austeridad inagotable que hace mi ánimo bajar
Lucho por ser mejor cada día y eso es lo más remarcable.

Origen de la imagen

Lo que me impulsa es mi corazón
Lo que me mueve es mi razón
Lo que experimento es con tesón
Lo que no alcanzaré será mi pasión.

Nunca desistas de ver lo que tienes que ver
El camino se desvía, pero siempre has de volver al mismo
Los atajos no sirven de nada, si la intención es pura y natural
Solo los de corazón fiel y fuerte determinación sabrán en la vida avanzar.

Poema escrito por el puño y letra de @poetisotizo.
Espero les haya gustado.

English version

I discover what I hid in the stones of the past
Behind tangled bushes between dormant neurons
What is logical is the jewel to seek in the midst of uncertainty
The moments of dissatisfaction that hid among the brush.

Caution warnings always come to light in the north
In the south, the moments that can no longer be described
In the east, my soul sighs for a different and better world
In the west, the howls of wolves are heard in the distance.

Image source

Inexplicable is what is felt in the air and seen swarming
Unfathomable is what foolish people try to explain in their swaying
Iconic is the most irreverent moment lived in years
Incomparable is the long-awaited dream once it has been achieved.

Read the full post

El sol que siempre vuelve!

geila — Fri, 02 Oct 2026 11:56:06 GMT

![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmVGMxUGsBL84ahsx3UuwyAmhwUgGQoahcku55C3rvZUbv/imagen.png)

Cuando la noche se vuelva densa y fría,
y sientas que la sombra apaga el camino,
no temas la penumbra ni el destino,
que ninguna oscuridad dura toda la vida.
A veces el peso del mundo nos agobia,
los problemas se enredan en la mente,
pero recuerda, de manera persistente,
que toda tormenta es transitoria.
Para cada laberinto existe una salida,
para cada problema hay una respuesta,
aunque la subida se sienta muy cuesta,
siempre hay una luz lista y encendida.
No te rindas cuando el cielo esté gris,
abraza la espera con el alma en calma,
que el alba ya viene a curar el alma,
y el sol, sin falta, volverá a salir.

*Imagen generada en Gemini IA

Shattered Illusions (Original Poetry)

raj808 — Sat, 03 Oct 2026 18:37:15 GMT

_{Image by beate bachmann from Pixabay}

Star-flecked face aglow with specks of cobalt snow. A nebulous gaze measures time - sublime in infinity.Galactic cornea swirl in a formless vacuum, born in the big boom, like thread weaving fabric from the loom.The mirror's surface quivers in susurrus, pools shiver in flux, exploding in expansion.Shards of glass slash mass from matter, obliterate any trace of god’s ephemeral embrace.Illusions shatter, disintegrating sin, concepts born from belief scatter to the wind.

![Copyrightbanner.png](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/raj808/242DBfiTFtTzwpdfSk9Ym5NkuRvi2AqgVSus4SBVkypMbmvTNFLzMsfYSJChE9G5Q95T2.png)https://steemitimages.com/DQmaiuGasc2vGC6wrf3Nu7Su5GTzNSx9UJGuApEhdjAZvzU/9.pngAll images used are creative commons licence, linked below the picture.If you have enjoyed this poem, you can check out my homepage [@raj808](https://peakd.com/@raj808) for similar content. Thanks for reading 🙂 🌿

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1st Anniversary with Mine

erotics — Fri, 02 Oct 2026 01:14:18 GMT

A year into pure commitment
Loyalty, trust and desire,
We continue just as strong
As when we first lit the fire.

Dedication to the heart
And binding to each other's soul,
She freely gives me her completely
Surrendering full control.

I wrap her heart in love
And lead her into ecstacy,
Imprinting on her mind
That it's entirely safe next to me.

And so we continue
With full disclosure to each other,
Anything and everything
As best friends and lovers.

To find a muse
One must choose
And be extremely selective

Especially
In the sexual sea
Because you will be connected

And if you find
That one of a kind
Which renders you hypnotic

Then you have found
And are #soulbound
To one which gives you #erotics.

Cinnamon Eyes Flutter (Original Poem) and a Blog About Life

raj808 — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 18:32:00 GMT

https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/raj808/23uQfpgCjNTqFaP5Z4TiTLtSEv3Hy3kgyJ24GMgVs5gho7BakmJEgxTWy5GGnTF3szFo9.jpg

Music shivers. Cinnamon eyes
simmering speaker thrum.
Bass numbs MDMA carapace -
empty embraces, swollen gums.

The party lingers, memories fade.
Yesterday remains a picture
left out in the rain.

Colors running in rivulets,
pastel pixels merging
to cinnamon dun.
Sunspots erupt
in the back
of my eye.

In the morning light I turn,
those cinnamon eyes flutter
like the rush of MDMA Butterflies.

Breaking conditioning

A poem from a different time, a different me and I guess a large part of the teenager that made me the man I was to become.

Lol, but even in that teenage angst I still knew how to have fun 😂 You'll go insane if you don't work that out in a developing/changing mind.

Many of us don't leave a kind of quasi-adulthood until we're well past our twenties!

I truly believe that; some play roles carved out for them by parents or school's conditioning, and undoubtedly create or enable something larger than them.

Whether it be selling a car to someone in a showroom, or repeating mindless script from fluorescent bulb rooms with a thousand other chattering call centre advisors. Or weaving lies from half-truths in a marketing team (I've written press releases, and been involved in 'reputational management'), or hiding small atrocities in a PR department, or mapping out the heavens looking for that elusive star... that might support life-bearing planets.

Dreaming dreams and writing them down for others to inhabit, for a time. Creating worlds within worlds on paper or film to bring escape, to spend time and forget for a while the simple truth that we all die alone.

There comes a point in everyone's life where they transition from quasi-adulthood to their full grown-up selves, and a vast majority of people think they're already there when their still developing an understanding of the chaos of this universe.

I'm still not 100% sure I've reached that final stage of adulthood, but recognizing the nature of quasi-adulthood has to be at least the first step on the ladder!

Thanks for reading 🙂🌿

https://steemitimages.com/DQmaiuGasc2vGC6wrf3Nu7Su5GTzNSx9UJGuApEhdjAZvzU/9.png

The various media used in the poetry reading are all from CC license sources, links to credit: [1st Pic: Kat Smith](https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-s-eye-grayscale-portrait-photography-551600/) & [2nd Pic: Gam-Ol.](https://pixabay.com/photos/abstract-purple-background-texture-3147697/)If you have enjoyed this poetry post, please check out my homepage [@raj808](https://peakd.com/@raj808) for similar content.

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