Poetic Philosophy has for a long time now helping people find their voice regarding the philosophy of life. The combination of philosophical thoughts and poetry is an ideal means for exploring the deepest secrets of existence. Sometimes we can only express things we know without words – just with poems that speak those unspoken words we constantly feel.
We are delighted to share a major milestone for our literary journey: we are preparing the publication of a commemorative book anthology collecting poems recited across all Poetic Philosophy gatherings of 2026 (from our very first sessions earlier this year through December)!
Poems to be published
Any poems submitted already in the Poetic Philosophy events are eligible.
Send us your poems for the new events for October (currently in progress), November and December events to be considered.
Or if you wish, send us completely new poems to include in the anthology, even if you do not want them included in any online collection or even if you are not participating in any of the online poetry recital events.
In any case, you are in full control on what is to be published. Explicit consent will be required for the specific poems to be included. Refer to the next section below for details.
Details regarding the publication
Please read below the details for the publication.
Free of Charge: Participation and inclusion in the book are completely free.
Non-Commercial & Community Reinvestment: There are no individual royalties or author earnings. Any net proceeds generated from book sales will be dedicated entirely to funding future poetry contests, community awards, and literary initiatives for Poetic Philosophy.
IMPORTANT NOTE – Explicit Consent Required: We deeply respect your rights to your work. No poem will be included without your explicit written approval. Inclusion in the anthology does not restrict your rights in any way – you are free to share your poems elsewhere or publish again on your own.
To give your consent: Simply send us a message before 31st December 2026 stating: “I consent to having my poem [Insert Poem Title(s)] included in the 2026 Poetic Philosophy Anthology under the terms outlined by Poetic Philosophy.“
Other submission guidelines
Word/line count limit: Up to 50 lines.
Submission limit: Up to 3 poems per author.
Accepted languages: English only.
Bio/name guidelines: Pen names are allowed. Please state explicitly the name under which you want the poem to be published.
For any questions on the submission process, feel free to contact us via a comment here or engage through our Facebook Community.
Thank you for being part of this philosophical and poetic tapestry.
Past Online Collections & Poetic Events
For reference and to get an idea of the poems already submitted, one can refer to the existing online collections at the Poetry Collections & Events page.
Best regards, Spyridon Kakos Poetic Philosophy Editor
Submit your poems with DM, comment here, or via the Poetic Philosophy Contact Us page!
Submitted Poems
the gravefitsmy bodywell.
it’s slightlyconcavedue to the coffinrotting down.
there’s an indentout of the wind,and by 10 amthe sun is overthe estate agents’building,warming my spotfor sleep.
later in the day,breakfastwas a can of lager,and last nighta litre of vodka.
i’m lost.
It’s a Sunday,andi’m close to you,and my spittleis in yourface.
It’s October.
the air is clearcold and freshthe sky a pastel bluefading at the edges
the shadows ofpassing peoplelong and strong
street signs stretchtheir shadowsacross the roadlosing their shape
i stop at the Buttercross.
And Smack head Samis sat.
‘It comes to find you,’he says.
~ psychic945247cf2b
A flow, a river
Temporal existence sweeps us along Time flows, pushing downstream One gets thrown about. We have problems is what I’m saying
Occasionally a place of calm where there is no flow where there’s stillness instead
The need to act stops so too doing this or that being this, that
There’s calm and stillness there’s you No current pushing you
Who do you want to be? Is it the you of dreams?
The authentic you The timeless you
Just let it be Just let it be
Just
~ Harry Liantziris
Pilgrimage
A touch of mysticism surrounding the candle stand tonight! So many souls floodlit in front of my eyes, a tender mortal breeze enveloping vulnerable yet immortal echoes, whispering at this glorious promontory of hope, of union.
Intangible yet viscerally felt is the voice of prayer this humid autumn moment of serenity. Genuine, all encompassing, superior. A velvety sight debunking every hue of pain dares to disperse flames of certainty around. He IS always with us all.
Outside this hospitable chapel the melting candle wax transforms festively every thought into power, every absence into presence, every chaos into unity with the divine . Inexplicable yet more than gut feeling that this the domain where light equals life .
~ Maria Michael
Climate
Radio research, Sibilants express, Catastrophic climate.
On my way home from work, I came to the dark plain of my senses, swollen with emotions. A firefly was always there, guiding travelers.
The firefly led me across first. A little bit off the beaten path, we stopped.
The stars heard our silence and blinked through my heart with a wish I had desired years earlier— now dipped in the blood of the night, piercing the pitch.
While the firefly still whispered, my instinct spoke to the sky. The heavens urged me to collect the remains of the light and bind them to my heart. If I ever feared losing myself, this glow would win me back. I believed, and hid it away.
Years passed. My mind taunted my skin, waking a quiet lust that held my flesh captive.
When my eyes sank into an endless doldrum, I learned that false hope had destroyed my intent— because I wanted only life for myself.
I was on the edge of nothingness, preparing a prayer to God, and I sent my spirit wild to search for a fine word for the prelude. Then, I remembered the firefly’s whisper. I spread the light across my thoughts, and it gave me sanity, yellow as lemon.
~ Ernesto P. Santiago
no warning on my Departures
Ι am speaking through the teeth of a stranger matter, no matter a stubborn rumor we insisted on the boundary of the skin but the skin is a sieve they passed through it with a click
stay still
i do no move you with my appearance whoever stands here is merely a pronoun borrowing a throat
misidentified at the border of the page was that you or the wind
the us among others no longer has a meaning
a generous subtraction
here or where the chair remembers the weight watch the door perhaps never arrived
no warning on my Departures
you are addressing a shift in the temperature from the silhouette of a passerby matter, no matter a collective superstition we demanded a hard edge to the ribs but the form is porous she slid through the prefix of her own name
stay still
i do no move you with my appearance whoever populates the coat is a temporary pronoun borrowing a face
misidentified was that my hand or a shadow of a branch the difference is a luxury
the us among others no longer has a meaning
the ultimate charity is an unannounced Dissapearance
~ Adelina Burnescu
WHO IS TIME
Me, myself and I
– who is time, Who is Time?
The one who myself calls I, who is nothing more than Time, is it also in time? And if so, if it is the same as time, than why it denies this time as finite?
This one who denies does he recognize that time is always already his and not its?
Is he ready to stand close-by his only facticity of life and ask how is this time which makes me mine?
This one who tells me he is time, the time same as mine, same as I, who mirrors himself in the face of the Other, is he ready to crucify his peace and admit that this time that we share, as nothing shareable, speaks of us as – it is time.
And to question ourselves, whoever we might be, means no more than to make aware, to awake, our -being here – as nothing more, really nothing more than this already given time as Time to die. Time to cry and to demystify that we as time await nothing more than time itself to become in the face of death our innermost possibility.
~ Patrik Weiss
ON THE ORIGIN OF SUFFERING
being is a failure in the eyes of labourer God and there’s nothing we can hope for beyond our hepelessness
~ Patrik Weiss
FROM COCAINE ADDICT WITH LOVE
wrongly understood derogatory yout the one who is pure is his finitude forever be gentle you cunt cunt you with the big C something that’s gonna be remembered as a bullet of uterus as an eater of placenta as a filler of urn glow where snows fail to fall suffer with your frozen fingertips touch your moist, blue lips and let your only end be your heaven when time starts to collapse
~ Patrik Weiss
Untitled
Two cubes intravenously the usual dose of unconditional love love me tenderly instantly while my wounds are healing, while…
Love me honestly quietly being away from envious eyes while the blood runs over the veins you and I are diving into orgasm
Two cubes intravenously every morning of love on an empty stomach love me tenderly instantly love me like no one has loved me before …
~ Bei Kateryna
Untitled
Life’s roller coaster ride doth rock an’ roll an’ stride, In, with but a gasp, for air, grasped, sucked, Drawn in, Despite it being so thickly thin, Expired, exhaled, sent forth Sucked in again without remorse nor rage Unthinkingly, ’til old age Have one last breath To life, a kiss of death!
Old scars heal But they are still there to feel You are not the person that you used to be But now you are someone So smile Babies are all the same Loved by all. No one to hate I’m not the same
My birth was not when I left the womb But years later Yesterday The day before Tomorrow Every single scar Is what I am Full. Grown up. Mature. Laughing like a child. A child I only see when I smile. That is the scar I carry inside.
