Meet the #DislexicPoet, Natasha C Akinfolarin, our latest featured member. She writes unpolished poems that emerge from the depths of her experiences. Natasha kindly agreed to share her poetry journey, thus serving as a teacher and inspiration to all of us.

Not only does she share some valuable tips, but she’s also allowed us to publish three poems and to tell us about her recently published poetry collection, available for purchase online.

You can check out her page by clicking on one of the breathtaking images she’s gifted us.

W.B. Yeats published this poem in 1899, as part of his collection The Wind Among the Reeds. The poet wrote it for Maud Gonne, his muse, who rejected his marriage proposals time and again.

Assessing one’s own poetry isn’t easy. While you may spot beauty and flaws, a fresh pair of eyes and constructive appraisal from other poets can show up glitches you may never see. Mutual support and joint learning are among the founding principles of the Poetry Cooperative. We have therefore built a system that allows you to showcase your poetry while inviting you to serve as a valued critic of our members. Here is how it works:

1. Write a poem
2. Provide feedback on three poems in the poetryfeed
3. Watch your poem be published in our #poetryfeed
4. Anticipate comments from other members

Be Specific, Be Kind

Always be kind when delivering your feedback. The more specific your comments, the more your fellow poet will benefit. Give the kind of advice you would like to receive. And if you hate a poem, take a step back and think carefully. Then, by all means, dish out your reservations without dropping an ounce of respect for the person who crafted the poem carefully after all.

Join to Get Comments and Better Your Poetry

We would like to invite you to join our community, share your poetry, and hear your thoughts. Click on the image below to see the membership options.

This poem was written by British poet Jenny Joseph (1932 – 2018) when she was 28 years old.”Warning” is her best-known work amongst several poetry collections.

We are looking for submissions for our Spring 2026 online Poetry Magazine. The theme is Communication, with poems no longer than 30 lines.

We like story poems, poems where each word has a place, and poems that turn a light on somewhere. The deadline is 30 March 2026.

Send up to three poems to submissions@poetrycooperative.org.

Right now, the bus boy is counting his money
through the faces of those coming down
from the bus. He measures in the face of each
tired passenger the distance of a journey,
the stops and starts, the shift of light and rain,
and the red dust of abandoned outposts.
I am watching him as the world pass us by.
Shone by questions, the world mirrors to us
the memories of thunder and the edge
of every new city; the long lines of trees,
the aubade of cargoes, and the cemeteries
of the brave and foolish. What else do I need
to do but to pay for my passage through
the long and windy road of this world?
A horse gallops pass the bus; a camel follows
slowly. As long as there is movement
the world continues. This I know, it is the ruin
of a place that moves us toward paradise.
A dog barks, a crying child stops and watches,
staccato upon staccato, I am here now.
The rain has begun, the bus is preparing
to depart. I am walking beside the bars
and parlors of this ancient city of boats
and mariners, and before me there is, alone
in a street corner, the solitude of an empty bench.
In the cosmos of every invention, it is the lyric
of movement that I am reaching out to, its sheen,
its velvet gown. It is the lyric will save me.

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

We are introducing a cash reward for the best poem we find in our poetry feed each month, awarding the winner €25.00. The competition starts today, 25 May 2025, so the first winner will be announced on 25 June and every 25th of each month.

The poem “Forsythia” (1966), by Mary Ellen Solt.

The light by the barn that shines all night
pales at dawn when a little breeze comes.

A little breeze comes breathing the fields
from their sleep and waking the slow windmill.

The slow windmill sings the long day
about anguish and loss to the chickens at work.

The little breeze follows the slow windmill
and the chickens at work till the sun goes down—

Then the light by the barn again.

© by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

a poem by Kitty Tsui

I cannot do without love
the way I make myself
do without food or sleep or sex 
I cannot do without love

sometimes I rummage through
my papers 
scraps of dreams
thoughts from long ago
want to throw everything out
but can’t

did my laundry
read Doris Lessing 
on the stairs in the sun
the one about
a man and two women

last night in your arms
a whisper in my ear
see how your heart beats
hard like a hammer

what are you thinking about
you are so far away

pow fahn for breakfast
steaming in rice bowls
snow heavy on the trees
like icing on a cake

your lover calls every night
demanding to know 
if I am still here
and why the hell am I
still here
I cannot do without love

For more by Kitty Tsui, click here.

We are thrilled to welcome Poet and Mental Health Advocate Daragh Fleming to the Poetry Cooperative. Daragh writes stunning poetry and his book, Lonely Boy is changing lives as we speak. I had the privilege to sit down with him and ask him about his writing and the advise he provides to emerging poets and writers.

You can check out Daragh’s Honorary Members’ Page to find out what advice he has for emerging poets. We’ve got an interview and a selection of stunning poems. You can access the page by clicking on the photo below.

The Poetry Cooperative provides poets with tips and publishing opportunities. You can publish poems on our poetry feed and promote your poetry across the platform and the Poetry Cooperative social media channels. We also encourage our members to support one another with comments and feedback.

If you’re serious about writing and promoting your poetry and making money, the Poetry Cooperative Silver Membership is worth considering. The membership level offers many opportunities to its members, focusing on supporting them in their efforts to publish, share, and promote their poetry.

Apart from providing publishing opportunities on the Poetry Cooperative website and in the Poetry Cooperative Magazine, Silver Member contests award winners prize money.

Driving traffic to your poetry website and building a strong social media following is also important for poets. For that reason, we run comment, like and share exchanges.

We encourage members to collaborate and help increase traffic to their websites and social media profiles while the promotional team at the Poetry Cooperative promotes the work of featured poets across all social media platforms. Your poetry will reach a whole new audience whose members will further share your work.

Submit Poetry Online, Publish, Promote

To submit poetry online, you can join the Poetry Cooperative and start publishing your poetry. If you become a Silver Member, you can submit your work for publication in the Poetry Cooperative Magazine. 

The quarterly Poetry Cooperative Magazine features the best new poetry.  We also pay contest winners, plus winning poems appear in the quarterly magazine too.

So, you see, Poetry Cooperative Silver Members enjoy lots of money-making and promotional opportunities.

The focus of what we do is on poets helping poets spread beautiful poetry across the globe.

Become a Poetry Cooperative Silver Member Now!

Here’s a recap of all the wonderful Poetry Cooperative Silver Membership features:

• Paid Contests
• Build Website Traffic
• Promote Your Poetry Collection
• Publish Your Poem and Get Paid
• Find Out About the Latest Submission Calls

To celebrate spring and redouble our writing efforts, we are running a 30-Poetry Challenge. To succeed, you need to publish ten poems here within 30 days. We will share the poems across social media, and if you fulfil the task, you get one-month of Poetry Cooperative Silver membership free of charge with all its perks. The Poetry Cooperative 30-Day Poetry Challenge is designed to help you build consistency while providing you with feedback and comments.

Click on the image below to sign up and register.

If you are considering the self-publishing route and wonder what it is like to publish a collection, listen to what Mike Gordon told me during a recent chat.

Thank you Mike for taking the time to explain the process and share your experience.

Listen to spoken-word master, Pages Matam, and what he has to say on finding your voice in poetry, the healing and cathartic nature of poetry, and on the power of language.

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found   
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,   
Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.   
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world   
Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence   
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind   
While there is still time.

Anne Sexton

Until tonight they were separate specialties,
different stories, the best of their own worst.
Riding my warm cabin home, I remember Betsy’s
laughter; she laughed as you did, Rose, at the first
story. Someday, I promised her, I’ll be someone
going somewhere and we plotted it in the humdrum
school for proper girls. The next April the plane
bucked me like a horse, my elevators turned
and fear blew down my throat, that last profane
gauge of a stomach coming up. And then returned
to land, as unlovely as any seasick sailor,
sincerely eighteen; my first story, my funny failure.
Maybe Rose, there is always another story,
better unsaid, grim or flat or predatory.
Half a mile down the lights of the in—between cities
turn up their eyes at me. And I remember Betsy’s
story, the April night of the civilian air crash
and her sudden name misspelled in the evening paper,
the interior of shock and the paper gone in the trash
ten years now. She used the return ticket I gave her.
This was the rude kill of her; two planes cracking
in mid—air over Washington, like blind birds.
And the picking up afterwards, the morticians tracking
bodies in the Potomac and piecing them like boards
to make a leg or a face. There is only her miniature
photograph left, too long now for fear to remember.
Special tonight because I made her into a story
that I grew to know and savor.
A reason to worry,
Rose, when you fix an old death like that,
and outliving the impact, to find you’ve pretended.
We bank over Boston. I am safe. I put on my hat.
I am almost someone going home. The story has ended.

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, 
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, 
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between 
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes. 

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration 
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze 
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration, 
Faces of people streaming across my gaze. 

And I, what fountain of fire am I among 
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed 
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng 
Of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost.

We are open for submissions for the Spring Issue of the Poetry Cooperative. Please submit up to three bloom-themed poems of 24 lines or less before the end of February. Please send your poems to submissions@poetrycooperative.org.

Here’s something to inspire you.

that night, I saw god under a traffic light

Meadows are like frameless paintings sprawling nude and thousands of tulips blossoming. Yellow and red cups crowning chlorophyll and figments. A trillion cells sistering, and I won’t shred a field of grain, but I will mill it, cast salt for blooming crusts. Gutting a bolted door is like hiring a plumber and millions of glimmers brothering. Silver and golden drops dredging tar and rule books. A billion fires clotting, and I won’t tread on the ocean, but I will steal it, dry seaweed for kindling. Sometimes, fence posts grow limbs into the ground and arms, sky-bound. The wind moors a swing, and we sway.

Join as a gold member and reap all the benefits:

• Promote Your Website
• Feature as a poet on your own Poetry Cooperative webpage
• Get paid for poems submitted to the magazine
• Enjoy exclusive content and tips on how to promote your poetry

For a limited time only, we are offering a 30% discount. To avail of this fantastic offer click on the image below:

As the leaves are leaving, we are raking up poems to shorten the stretching evening. Send us your best story poem of no more than 25 lines. Make it spooky, make it warm, write and tell us a story like only a poem can, short, sweet, and surprising.

The trees are in their autumn beauty,	 
The woodland paths are dry,	 
Under the October twilight the water	 
Mirrors a still sky;	 
Upon the brimming water among the stones	         
Are nine and fifty swans.	 
  
The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me	 
Since I first made my count;	 
I saw, before I had well finished,	 
All suddenly mount	  
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings	 
Upon their clamorous wings.	 
  
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,	 
And now my heart is sore.	 
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,	  
The first time on this shore,	 
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,	 
Trod with a lighter tread.	 
  
Unwearied still, lover by lover,	 
They paddle in the cold,	  
Companionable streams or climb the air;	 
Their hearts have not grown old;	 
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,	 
Attend upon them still.	 
  
But now they drift on the still water	  
Mysterious, beautiful;	 
Among what rushes will they build,	 
By what lake's edge or pool	 
Delight men's eyes, when I awake some day	 
To find they have flown away?

This poem is in the public domain

‘Style is the answer to everything–

a fresh way to approach a dull or a

dangerous thing.

to do a dull thing with style

is preferable to doing a dangerous thing without it.

https://youtu.be/Z2sQqlY-vhk

We are looking for submission for the summer issues of the Poetry Cooperative Magazine. The topic is UNITY. Please send us up to three poems, preferably no longer than two pages, in any form or style. Let’s celebrate what binds us all together.

Email to submissions@poetrycooperative.org, Our submission window is open until the end of July.

Anyone who writes poetry wants to know what makes a poem a poem rather than embarrassing ramblings. I’m posting Daniel Tysdal’s Ted talk here. In simple terms, he describes how to write a great poem as opposed to an average one. Enjoy!

To end the year on a high note, we are offering poets Annual Gold Membership at a special price. You will get the same support and perks only now, the membership is less expensive.

• 

Sign Up Now!

https://www.canva.com/design/DAEGc30Gl2s/view

I’m looking interested in finding out whether #covid19 is reshaping your poetry and if so how and most of all share your most recent #lockdownpoems