poetry for plebs

We are sensible people with sensible dreams A little cottage seems quite fair With a little kitchen and maybe a stream: Take that turret away from there!

We are not castle sort of folk Our hands in the dirt and eyes on the road We’re not that grand; my, what a joke! As if carriage horses are how we’re towed! Our aspirations are quite commonplace To have maybe a yard and maybe some space We are plain little people with a plain little face And no nonsense is just to our taste

dear mr. newton: an object in motion stays in motion unless

like the stealthiest case of ego

Where his brother was 

(Even as his blood spilled and cried out) 

Cain replied, 

“Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Christ, hanging from the cross,

As His blood spilled 

Saving us, ushering us 

To God’s divine embrace 

Saying, in reply,

(Am I my brother’s keeper?)

For my lack of fidelity 

For the chains I bind myself in 

And Lord, thank You 

For giving me Your hand 

And waiting 

that You shift each season 

Giving us 

A new beginning 

Alone

(Except for the seismic waves 

Moving in the core of the earth)

Did He hear it? 

The heartbeat of the world? 

Did He remember when He formed it? 

When He pressed His ear to the dirt 

Breathing in the sky 

Did the heartbeat of the world 

Match His? 

(We often feel alone 

Except we are in a world 

Poetry Participation Party 2025

Info:

• You are invited to share your work(s) inspired by Christianity and your personal relationship with God.

• poetryforplebs submission rules apply (no swearing, no erotica, no advertising)

• Please tag @poetryforplebs so that we can showcase your work!

• All forms of poetry and/or storytelling accepted and appreciated 

• Masterpost of all work will be posted a month after the event 

The ghost of my mother (who, let it be known, is still alive) haunts my actions: I cook too much food for friends coming over; I choose the same colors in my house; I cannot help trying to solve every problem confided to me

March brings wind, every day a little chillier than you think it should be. You don't care. Because at least it's sunny, and it isn't below freezing. The wind blows, but the sun shines warmly, so we'll camp at the playground with all the other families and race the energy out with joy.

Except the little guy. He is too little to race around, too little to rejoice in sun when it's so windy. His nose is red and he complains that it's too cold.

I think last night I dreamed of you You came to visit like you used to do Sat in the kitchen with jokes and games Unpacking your boxes like things were the same

I've still got you in my phone Name saved just like before I wonder if you've got me still Or if you've truly closed that door

Today I thought of you again About your laugh and of your grin Of books and talks and walks and things Of cooking and of when you'd sing

I don't know if we are still called friends But I'd like to think that we still are I don't know how you think of me I just know we've grown apart

I'll think of you again tonight How life without you just ain't right I'll wonder if I texted you, Would you text back or leave that too?

where the sun shines clear through the snow 

ice and beauty melting together 

i blink and it’s dark 

desperate to feel something

.