Love does not stem from anywhere…
It is existence per se trying to manifest itself through nothingness…
Look at the still water. Stare your emotionless face.
And there, within the rage of calmness, behold!
War!
Harmonia Philosophica reference: Origins of emotions… Master of War…
“Falling leaves”
This is the March 2026 community poem collection.
Submissions are accepted until March 25, 2026 from the Submit your poem page or via the harmonia-philosophica@hotmail.com email.
Anyone who wants to also recite their poems to the community, can do so by participating for free in the 2026 2nd POETIC PHILOSOPHY GATHERING, the details of which are shown below.
2026 2nd POETIC PHILOSOPHY GATHERING
Date: Saturday, March 28, 2026
Time: 18:00–19:00 Greece time
Location: Online (Google Meet)
Link: https://meet.google.com/syb-orey-dua
Following the wonderful energy and deep connections made during our first gathering in January, I am delighted to invite you to our second meeting. As the season shifts, we return to this intimate space dedicated purely to the power of your own words and the recitation of original poetry. No lessons. No critiques. Just original voices.
Whether you are a seasoned writer or have just captured your first philosophical thought in verse, we invite you to share your work in a supportive, reflective environment. As always, if you aren’t ready to read, you are more than welcome to join us simply to listen and experience the “symposium.”
How to Participate:
To Recite: To help us organize the flow of the evening, we ask that those wishing to read submit their poems beforehand. Please send your poem(s) via DM or via https://poeticphilosophy.com/submit-your-poem/ by March 25th. Please state that the submission is for the 2nd Gathering.
To Listen: No submission required—simply join us at the link above!
REGISTER your participation in the relative Facebook Event at https://fb.me/e/dcsUtPaPl ! Feel free to share with your friends as well.
Let’s welcome the arrival of Spring by once again bringing the philosophy of the heart into the harmony of the spoken word.
Have you noticed that everyone goes for an anestethic to get through this thing called “Life”…
Some… Some get coffee,
Some… Some get tea.
Some smoke, some vape…
some others drink- it gets them “free”…
Some go on a diet, some go off a diet,
some others- go to the gym …
Some others dive in AI Some others just get high…
Some others get crystals,
Some others get pistols,…
Some others get tarot or yoga, or sleep…
Some others get a “healing”,
Some others get a “hearing”,
Some others just get to agree…
Some others get arty Some others sing and party…
Some others dare to disappear…
Some others hike the mountains Some others call on the aliens Some others get tarot
Again or just get to dream…
Some others get religious
Some others get rebellious
Some others get books to read…
Some others… Some others… Some others….
Which anaesthetic do you actually See
Some others… Some others… Some others…
But almost never us ….
Do you agree?
~ A.A. Stob, Bulgaria
Stone in a rule of triangle.
Through lines in points the hour arrives in a word.
A word that speaks to the subconscious.
Runs through thoughts and minds.
Memory stays steel: “A hundread kisses goodbye”.
The leaps got read and the word spoke the wanting.
Still the wishes are called.
The words are yearning.
The lines are healed.
~ Athiná Stulianí Michou
There are some blessings too
after my mother’s passing
the gradual emptiness of space
the lightening, though heavy
spare belongings now
do not impede or weigh
my thoughts, but set free
allowing now the cosmos
to enter, or me to think and say
without glaring television
and only one meditative CD
I look out as if anew, at last
on the glowing horizon
where I see her eyes too
once laid on the resting beasts
of wooded hills and cloud physiques
and time is nearly still
like the suburban stream’s
imperceptible current
ruffling the heart’s golden sands
leaving me again, quiet
among immortal beings.
In Memory of my Mother, Yoshino, 2.2.2026
~ Russell Hiroshi Jokela
A root Which grows too deep Between the stones,
This root…dies.
In another place, In another time,
A root is born That bypasses the stones.
Drops of water fall,
They hollow out the boulder,
So the saying goes…
Between my fingers,
I sift the sand.
So it’s true That it once had a different,
Because of its stony face?
In the rustle of the rain,
In the gusts of wind,
I listen for someone’s name…
I listen for my own name…
After all…I’ve been there before.
Someone called me.
The echo will return.
Patience…
~ Artur Urbański
Dedicated to Thomas McEvilley, author of The Shape of Ancient Thought
Borders erected to count, to divide, draw a record, a census
Humanity has mixed up thought and calculation.
One is mine and one is yours and ‘I’ want both,
I am the control command, Internet-centric, geocentric, I am god,
I draw a line, a neat red line, a green line,
a line around ancient thought,
between the colors of the human mind.
The ancients had calculus and spirituality entangled
Hypatia used it to show heliocentrism.
The ultimate rupture, between calculus and spirit,
were the atomic bombs,
Hiroshima and Nagazaki,
the unfathomable number of dead
in three high-pitched minutes, a major capitalist profit.
Humanity was hypothesized with nuclear energy,
now we have reached annihilation capacity.
We have not come to ex-nihilo.
Now, I claim to regain my collective unconscious
I vow to resist,
in the quagmire of tech asphyxiation,
we will inherit the opulence of ancient thought.
~ Karine Leno Ancellin
I give you warmth, I give you light
When darkness descends I take flight
For around the world I constantly shine
Bringing pleasure so divine
Nature thrives on my glow
As leaves and buds begin to show
Spring arrives, blossoms abound
Surrounded by flowers all over the ground
With my summer heat and lack of rain
Nature begins to feel the pain
Flowers wither as Autumn draws near
While falling leaves suddenly appear
Winter arrives, trees are bare
My glow has dimmed, I’ve little to share
But very soon we will be back to spring
To enjoy the warmth, the light and all that nature has to bring.
~ Richard Palmer
Bad tempered, not always—
but my body was severely tested
by dark nights of the soul.
O my mind, gay and full of revelry,
we mocked each other
till we both cried from laughing.
You told me, “Love yourself
below your means.”
So now that love I have in me means
more to me than love I don’t really need
like a backup love, a fantasy ideal.
I would love to have an extra
lover, but my worth not of shapeless
substance lacking structure.
Many thought those with extra lovers
are formless and void,
covered in darkness, like earth.
But I think most just have mood swing,
some with physical imbalance,
others having high emophilia,
or people with love issues—
just like redundant gods in the alleys
and streets of prescribed beliefs.
Still I want to walk in morning light,
guided by instinct, like a spider.
~ Ernesto P. Santiago
Flowers
Dead and dirty on the ground
I feel so alive in the spring!
The smell of death means the world goes round…
This section has the past versions of the poem, to show the evolution of thought until the final publication.
Flowers
Dead and dirty on the ground
I feel so alive in the spring!
Flowers on the ground
I pay no attention as I walk
Feeling alive as I trump on the ground
Flowers
Dead and dirty on the ground
One still standing
I cut it
It smells so good
I feel so alive in the spring!
Flowers
Dead and dirty on the ground
I feel so alive in the spring!
The smell of death means the world goes round…
Poetic Philosophy 