Twitter Ariel Poets

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Most popular tweet on Ariel Poets

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Ariel Poets on Twitter

Ariel Poets is a Twitter Poetry and writing account that was created by Alexandra Meehan and myself. We run the account and help writers and poets around the world by inspiring them with our tweets. Twitter has sone phenomenal poets and writers. We have writing prompts that we are featuring on a monthly basis. Use the hashtag #arielpoets and write a poem about betrayal. For the month of January, betrayal is the theme. Follow us on Twitter @ArielPoets to read our daily inspirational writing tweets. Our inspirations are Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton.

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You can also find Ariel Poets on Instagram.

Take a look at what we are doing there too.

Thank you,

Ariel Poets

Ariel Poets Account on Twitter

Christina Strigas

The exciting part about social media is networking and meeting like-minded people, especially if you are a writer or poet. A writer is a poet.

I first met Alexandra Meehan on Twitter. We have never met in real life, but our souls have probably met before. We became friends and we have come to appreciate each other’s poetic styles. I approached her a few weeks ago with the idea to open an account for lovers of poetry. We are both immensely inspired by Anne Sexton and Syliva Plath, who are two women who wrote about their turmoil life experiences. Men and women appreciate reading these two poets because through these women’s tough eyes the shape of humanity and relationships unfold in unique, female, poetic voices.

The pursuit of writing is an on-going struggle for writers and poets, especially women. Since Sappho, women have come a long way in poetry, but…

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It Evaporates​

You never lose a word from under the sheets

it can evaporate into desire within lightbulbs

of dark fiction. You tend to write about them,

blue octagons of your nightmares, the

lined frames of wisdom you neglected

to admonish. All these poets, they

love to see you crawl through utopian

skies. They love to see you die

a poetic death, make sure theirs

becomes immortal while your vampire

stories die under golden

Greek suns. I have unimpressed you

with bath time fun

you stopped playing mindless games

showed me your grey hair.

I can still cross my legs

be a drunken listener.

Walking Out

Where are you?

I know I have to act a certain way

the good wife, friend, mother,

daughter. I remember when I spoke up

and ran away to forget who I was.
Bleeding is an external vision

all the internal gods are turning away

misdiagnosing me with mental disorders

I

I am merely showing more of my 49 years

it gets hard to deliver packages

of love when everyone dissects your words

clothes

shoes

handbags

food

love

why are you running

Well it’s quite a miracle I am still alive

after all my accidents

why are you not running.

I wish I was better at human contact

conversation

I wish I was comfortable in my skin

but I never had three wishes.

My problem is I overestimate people

think we are all the same one love

one tribe

when we are so alienated.

I would rather stay home

write, live in the world

of words

I am too soft .

You can’t convert gays

it can’t be done,

no amount of articles on the internet

can convince me

I see too many rainbows

to understand dogmas.

Some days it is harder to be normal

other days it’s another blank bullet.

I walked out of the restaurant. It wasn’t the first time either.

The last time I did that Greg got me so mad.

Now, my rule is, 

If I’m hurt, I have to look out for myself. I may just be too fragile.

I crack more than others do

I’m made this way.

Sorry, but I can’t be who I was.

I’m not going back.

Sanity Chased Away

Rain clouds have stories you’ve been waiting to hear

melodies you’ve only heard in your dreams

for without chances and change

we can be a living corpse.

Even the truth can’t change your feelings.

Sometimes you have to go under

for a fresh breath of air.

 

It’s not me, it’s you.

 

All these years, I believed in the wrong expressions.

That’s why I hate adages;

I can never understand them

I have to think too hard

analyze words in ways my mind cannot grasp

about the English language

when I’m more comfortable in Greek

under the earth with my father.

I want to be here

writing in my kitchen

alone.

No one talk to me,

no one break my zone of silence.

I’m bonding with words now.

My one true connection.

 

You get me high on you

I will not turn away from you.

 

I will not ever see you again

this, I understand.

But words will always be there for me

to write to you how I feel safe

 

even without your whispers and voice.