I’ve kicked off this initiative where poets in our community share their verses, passing the torch from one to another. It’s not a new idea, nor did I create it. It was an idea born of the poets’ community’s collaboration and engagement through improvised verses that create a masterpiece.
(Poetic Relays fosters collaborative poetic engagement. We pass the torch by writing four verses, each adding to the masterpiece. Let’s write together, conveying our collective emotions about the future.) This edition had around 20 participants!
Check out previous editions:
©The stranger.
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*Writing is where my heart has chosen to stay. If these letters have kept you company, you’re welcome to help keep the ink flowing — one quiet coffee at a time.
Chain #1 (8 Participants)
In a shadowed corner,
of a glorious dark alleyway,
I stumbled—and fell
into a hellhole of light.
It was not warmth.
It was the light of a dead star,
The comfort of all contour blurred.
A late arrival,
with no audience at the empty stage.
I was not ready to survive
behind the room with no walls.
I stayed inside that light
long after it stopped pretending to be mercy.
It did not answer my name.
It only mirrored what I had buried.
I left carrying less body than memory,
and more memory than breath.
I walked sideways through hours that wouldn’t open.
My organs rehearsed being rooms I never entered.
Even silence began to sweat and ask for witnesses.
I survived by becoming the blur I couldn’t escape.
What does silence do, inside a system that already has rules?
I asked. As if the answer might reply.
A grasp at meaning,
for sounds that could carry thought.
For pain that felt alive,
and traced my name
longer than mercy held my hand.
Without true light, I could not see
With only thoughts as sound, I could not hear
I could only feel what my heart could bear
The pulse held it tight so it wouldn’t tear
So I learned to breathe in borrowed grace,
to let the dark teach shape and pace.
What broke stayed held, not whole, not gone—
and learned to beat its way to dawn.
So to the hand of Night, may I have this Dance?
In absent light, She took me hand.
Then came the time to rest, before too long,
We take ephemeral steps to an eternal song.
Chain #2 (8 Participants)
In a shadowed corner,
of a glorious dark alleyway,
I stumbled—and fell
into a hellhole of light.
It was not warmth.
It was the light of a dead star,
The comfort of all contour blurred.
A late arrival,
with no audience at the empty stage.
I was not ready to survive
behind the room with no walls.
I stayed inside that light
long after it stopped pretending to be mercy.
It did not answer my name.
It only mirrored what I had buried.
I left carrying less body than memory,
and more memory than breath.
Laura B Writing in the Shadows
The world kept moving,
and I practiced looking ordinary,
borrowing faces from passersby,
setting my mouth to neutral,
my hands to useful things,
learning how to carry myself
like a person not on fire.
The light burnt me from the inside
Every day, wishing I feel anything but the burning
While I slowly disintegrated
And turned into something small, charred, and broken
Dust in a world full of statues
Is the corner getting smaller?
It sure is getting colder.
I feel memory’s claws—
fresh wounds from stubborn ghosts—
a world of faceless statues,
everything keeps moving—
Yet I fall into ashes.
Slick film of warmed debris
is not the end.
Just the story stitched
to fading fire..
The Phoenix flight
a new beginning.
Growth comes from the fire
Healing comes from the flight
Stretching wings into the darkness
They’ll see me coming
A beacon
Don’t pull my feathers
While holding onto my wings.
There’s a beautiful divergence at the end of the chain by PancakeSushi
Chain #3 (6 Participants)
In a shadowed corner,
of a glorious dark alleyway,
I stumbled—and fell
into a hellhole of light.
It was not warmth.
It was the light of a dead star,
the comfort of all contour blurred.
A late arrival,
with no audience at the empty stage.
I was not ready to survive
behind the room with no walls.
I stayed inside that light
long after it stopped pretending to be mercy.
It did not answer my name.
It only mirrored what I had buried.
I left carrying less body than memory,
and more memory than breath.
I walked sideways through hours that wouldn’t open.
My organs rehearsed being rooms I never entered.
Even silence began to sweat and ask for witnesses.
I survived by becoming the blur I couldn’t escape.
The blur stumbles
The blur mumbles
City lights shine sharp and clear
Its people, hurried, purposeful, defined
To the blur don’t lend an ear
I’m not worth a piece of mind.
Yet in the blur, a heartbeat stays,
soft and unseen in neon Rays.
What rush ignores, the shadow knows
Even the blur is more than it shows.
Chain #4 (5 Participants)
In a shadowed corner,
of a glorious dark alleyway,
I stumbled—and fell
into a hellhole of light.
It was not warmth.
It was the light of a dead star,
The comfort of all contour blurred.
A late arrival,
with no audience at the empty stage.
I was not ready to survive
behind the room with no walls.
I stayed inside that light
long after it stopped pretending to be mercy.
It did not answer my name.
It only mirrored what I had buried.
I left carrying less body than memory,
and more memory than breath.
I crossed the boundary, not the light.
It only remained…
a body with no surface,
warping the dark around it,
waiting for the next approach.
In every forthright,
Its whispers cried out,
the desires kept hidden
by my untamed soul.
The Keeper of Quiet Roads dimmed its lights,
to let my wounded mourns
tear the air.
Chain #5 (5 Participants)
In a shadowed corner,
of a glorious dark alleyway,
I stumbled—and fell
into a hellhole of light.
It was not warmth.
It was the light of a dead star,
The comfort of all contour blurred.
A late arrival,
with no audience at the empty stage.
I was not ready to survive
behind the room with no walls.
I stayed inside that light
long after it stopped pretending to be mercy.
It did not answer my name.
It only mirrored what I had buried.
I left carrying less body than memory,
and more memory than breath.
I walked sideways through hours that wouldn’t open.
My organs rehearsed being rooms I never entered.
Even silence began to sweat and ask for witnesses.
I survived by becoming the blur I couldn’t escape.
The light began to burn the way holy water burns immortal echoes.
Helpless, it drew me towards those who came to witness my desecration.
Exposed, bare…every sin illuminated beneath its blinding glare.
I knew then its name was not salvation, it was a spotlight for my persecution.
I said I would just post the two longest chains, but since they were all quite beautiful, I couldn’t choose between them.
©The stranger.
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*Writing is where my heart has chosen to stay. If these letters have kept you company, you’re welcome to help keep the ink flowing — one quiet coffee at a time.
*These are the parallel poems I could track down. If I missed any, please let me know. (If there are edits to your verses, also let me know, please)
Thank you all for your wonderful participation in this Poetic Relay! Wishing you a beautiful year ahead, and many more Poetic Relays to come!
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Thanks Stranger this must have been tough to organise and get out there, thank you!
Thanks for @thestranger for creating a space for us all to bring some of our light🌻All the participants are awesome 💛💛💛Lots of love to everyone 💙All are beautiful relay😇😇