Jen Thorne
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jenthorne.bsky.social
Jen Thorne
@jenthorne.bsky.social
320 followers 230 following 1.3K posts
"Delightfully bleak."

In real life, I'm a working mother of two, with a boring job in IT.

On here, I am a poet, writer, artist, and crafter!
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Reposted by Jen Thorne
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
#mpprompt #freeverse #poem #inheritance
January 29, 2026 at 10:11 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
#iris #wildwalkprompt #sonnet #poem
January 29, 2026 at 9:31 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
anntigone.bsky.social
Within the embrace
of darkness
no words were spoken,
lest the night
obfuscate our truth

we employed the magic
of hands & lips, of eyes
& gleaming irises
to communicate esteem

then, nothing
could be misunderstood—

on that night,
beneath a heavy
veil of stars

our love
was real.
January 29, 2026 at 8:22 AM
jenthorne.bsky.social
Another beautiful phot and great prompt from @sonnetsomith.bsky.social

#WildWalkPrompt #Iris
Iris in the Fire Lay the sugar‑scented bloom in the quiet hearth, the room still warm with the echoes of leaving. Let its sweetness rise through the dimming air, a final offering to the space once filled. Call out to Iris, keeper of the threshold, to guide the way beyond the veil, where lavender blooms break gently into light.
January 29, 2026 at 5:41 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
madp03t.bsky.social
Frisky
Llamas
Acting
Mysteriously
Everywhere

#acrosticJanuary #poetry #flame #acrostic #poem #silly #writing :)
daveashleypoet.bsky.social Dave Ashley @daveashleypoet.bsky.social · 18h
29th #AcrosticJanuary prompt is

FLAME

by candlelight I write at night
January 29, 2026 at 12:42 AM
jenthorne.bsky.social
#Emoetry #Misunderstood
@mwplovesmusic.bsky.social
An Introvert’s Prayer (to the Gods of Social Competence) O extroverted gods of interaction, teach people not to judge my pained silence as disinterest or some aloof, cold grudge. For though my humour may often miss, and my timing's rarely ever good, there's wit somewhere beneath my shell, I'm just chronically misunderstood. In groups my rhythm turns to acid jazz, with vocals restrained and terse; yet give me the time to settle in, and my voice can match my verse. I’m not really a whisper in a corner, I’m a cracker tensed up too tight. But it's hidden out of necessity to stay when I want to take flight. So bless the ones who notice that there is mischief beneath my mood. May they see the fun I’m hoarding, just past the place where I am rude.
January 29, 2026 at 3:05 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
madp03t.bsky.social
I’ve posted another Madp03t Reading, this time sharing a story originally recorded for my Prompted! podcast. I had a lot of fun putting this one together, especially the sound design.

#soundcloud #spokenword #fiction #sounddesign #writing #writingcommunity #audio

soundcloud.com/madp03t/phan...
Phantom Frequncy
This story was originally recorded as part of my Prompted! podcast, now archived. The audio includes the original segment lead-in and sound design, left intact as it was first released. The story was
soundcloud.com
January 28, 2026 at 11:46 PM
jenthorne.bsky.social
Far away on a distant hill
Light blazes in a halo of hope.
All who see it look with wonder
Me, I only see the destruction
Everything left behind charred.

#AcrosticJanuary #Flame
@daveashleypoet.bsky.social
January 29, 2026 at 12:07 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
29th #AcrosticJanuary prompt is

FLAME

by candlelight I write at night
January 28, 2026 at 10:57 PM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
robojesi.bsky.social
A sonnet I wrote for @daveashleypoet.bsky.social's form writing workshop today. Thanks for hosting, mate.

#Poetry #WritingCommunity #PoetrySky #PoetsOfBlueSky #Sonnet #WritingWorkshopWednesday
Drawing lines with my eyes Trying to distract myself with this From the racing thoughts in my mind Telling me that my life is shit Glassed-over eyes, halfway here, half-gone Trying to just hold myself together I may even hum a soothing song Something from childhood, half-remembered Rubbing my arms with both of my hands To allow myself some gentle touch Imagining digging my toes into the sand And piles of smooth stones to touch So if it looks like I'm not really here You should know there's nothing to fear
January 28, 2026 at 10:21 PM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
#freeverse #moment #promptcombo #hospice #poem
January 28, 2026 at 9:10 PM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
rayhourigan.bsky.social
My contribution for #PromptCombo, the theme of #moments #writing #writingcommunity
@rfsmith.bsky.social
January 28, 2026 at 7:04 PM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
emmapurshouse.bsky.social
Love a good poetry slam? You're in luck...
pandemonialists.bsky.social poets and prattlers @pandemonialists.bsky.social · 1d
We'll be lifting the lid on #WolvesLitFest2026 this Saturday evening in Wolverhampton's Arena Theatre, with the incredible Wolves Lit Fest poetry slam. Tickets are flying out the door – get yours here: wlv.ticketsolve.com/ticketbooth/...
A colourful image publicising Wolves Lit Fest 26. Within the image is a b&w photo of three people (the pandemonialists) leaning against a wall and laughing. Text reads: Poetry Slam, Sat 31st Jan, 7.30pm. Arena Theatre.
January 28, 2026 at 6:53 PM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
#inkmine #syncopated #haibun #apocalypse
January 28, 2026 at 6:24 PM
jenthorne.bsky.social
"I've only ever seen one case before"
"Yeah, that was my Mum"
"Oh"

"You haven't got this, it's very, very rare"
"My Dad's got it"
"Oh"

They should not have reproduced.

#poetryprompt
#MPPrompt
@malformed-poetry.bsky.social
Everything Hurts but My Shoes   I was born with a voided warranty. My genes read like a horror script. An inherited soup of sorrow. Childhood was a slow-motion crash. My teenage excesses left their mark. Motherhood came with consequences. Somewhere in my twenties, pain checked in and never left.   I wake up sore from dreams of running, but my only race now is to pee. My spine files daily complaints. My knees whisper threats of relocation. Every other joint speaks up in solidarity. Even my hair is breaking.   Hope belongs to science fiction. Comedy hurts my ribs. Too much drama upsets my stomach. I’m a documentary of disease. One in a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand. All that remains to achieve is a high score in obscure ailments.   Some days the sun forgets to mock me. I almost feel like a person. I walk without wincing. I laugh without consequence. But mostly, I limp and I swear, And everything hurts but my shoes.
January 28, 2026 at 3:40 PM
jenthorne.bsky.social
@ourpoetryx.bsky.social
#ourpoetryx
#feelitdeep

#vssdaily
#massage
Hands Off In my mind I long to be held like they are in the poems. To feel a lover's caress across my throat, the pressure of someone gripping me with need. But my body says no. It's icky. It's sticky. It itches. There's twitches. There's spurts. It hurts. Just no. So massage me with your words instead. Tell me of your longing. Write poetry that touches without being close. Court my mind with tales of desire, and speak in ways that I can feel.
January 28, 2026 at 12:58 PM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
bundtkake.bsky.social
#vss365 #quiver #poetry

Blue light rectangles make everything distant, until it gets so close you can touch it. Today, here is a #poem to ignore as well
Gaslight Quiver A primal shiver From toes to eyes As instinct reads A language our Brains ignore. We see, We know, We feel, Then we turn away.
January 28, 2026 at 11:46 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
thewombwellrainbow.bsky.social
Long Shadow Winter
January 28, 2026 at 11:31 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
inksweatandtears.co.uk
Lynnda Wardle's 'the end of small things' mourns the rituals and culture lost during conflict, the violent loss of comfort and respite itself. @lynndaw.bsky.social

Read it here: inksweatandtears.co.uk/steve-komarn...

#FeaturedPoem #InkSweatAndTears
moka pot on stovetop. Text over photo reads: no more these settled mercies. title reads: the end of small things. Bottom text reads: Lynnda Wardle (C)
January 28, 2026 at 11:30 AM
jenthorne.bsky.social
@mwplovesmusic.bsky.social I hope you are doing okay and the move went well. It seems far too long since I did a poem for one of your prompts x

#Emoetry #Loathed
Too Long I loathed the way you smelt in the morning when the night sweats squeezed the rank alcohol out of your pores and onto the sheets. But I put up with it. I loathed the way you looked at me as though I was meat to be devoured and never saw that meat was a person being eaten away. But I put up with it. I loathed the way you pushed me around like a piece of cluttering furniture, in your way and inconvenient, to be moved aside at your will. But I put up with it. I loathe the way I put up with it all, and lost myself for too long.
January 28, 2026 at 11:26 AM
jenthorne.bsky.social
#vss365 #Quiver #Dansa

@daveashleypoet.bsky.social
@sonnetsmith.bsky.social
The Poem Your poem made me shiver. This random bunch of wrangled lines, united with a few subtle rhymes, has the power to make my heart quiver. Your poem made me shiver. As the beat of the stanza climbs, I am lost to this world and its time. I'm a leaf swept up by the river. Your poem made me shiver. I'm not one to be overly sublime, or to needlessly simper and pine. But by God, these words really deliver Your poem made me shiver.
January 28, 2026 at 10:39 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
echognomics.bsky.social
👉"Moonlit Walk on a Crisp Night"
Prompt Credit Roll:
#WeirdMicro #fragile_mind #GrimScribe #Unstable_dictation #DawnChorus #new_chapter #vss365 #quiver #poeticreveries #moonlit #WIPSnips #procrastinate #Foxprose #lengthy_interludes
#OurPoetryX #feel_it_deep #VSSFantasy #Obstreperous
Image is of a full moon over a town in deep dark blue sky. The text begin top of moon, uses extra spaces as needed to bracket the moon then continues underneath. Moonlit Walk on a Crisp Night Words were unstable dictation compared to our steady breath the easy articulations of two bodies, one mine, one alert wolf-kin, orbiting something sunless in lengthy interludes, my heart a quiver of emotions no longer procrastinated. I felt it deep: that new chapter of being my body less obstreperous a fragile mind less fogged. Not a cure, but a waxing of grace, a fortification in moonlit silence. EchoGnomics
January 28, 2026 at 10:02 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
@sonnetsmith.bsky.social @jenthorne.bsky.social

if you guys are bored ... try Dansa as a form... its easy but tricksy.. treaksy?? I used the vss365 prompt quiver.. go on I dare you.. double dare you Mother.. i better stop there

www.writersdigest.com/write-better...
Dansa: Poetic Forms
Poetic Form Fridays are made to share various poetic forms. This week, we look at the dansa, an Occitan poetic form.
www.writersdigest.com
January 28, 2026 at 9:01 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
ignorantfairy.bsky.social
silence claimed
several stanzas
decompression
overload released
loathed — this state
of mending yet
every word asks
to be plucked
gingerly like the
last remaining
rosehips

#emoetry #poetry #poetrycommunity #photography
Two shriveled and one decaying rosehip over snowy ground
January 28, 2026 at 9:22 AM
Reposted by Jen Thorne
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
#cotton #wildwalkprompt #poem #walk #madrigal #frosty
January 28, 2026 at 8:10 AM