Kay Medway
@kaymedway.bsky.social
510 followers 650 following 650 posts
I’m a library assistant and poet with work published in The Dirigible Balloon, Disabled Tales, Dreambeast Poems, and featured on Brian Moses’s blog. My poems are forthcoming in Scaryness Express.
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Reposted by Kay Medway
thefantasyhive.bsky.social
A Cinderella retelling, but nothing at all like you know it - Beth reviews CINDER HOUSE by Freya Marske, out now from Tor:

"A Gothic fairytale triumph perfect for the haunting season."

Read more: tinyurl.com/5kr8yedw

@torbooksuk.bsky.social
@freyamarske.bsky.social
@bethanmay.bsky.social
Reposted by Kay Medway
lbflyawayhome.bsky.social
The mastery of artist Harry Wingfield.
‘Cake’
(Yes, it is a painting - from Third Picture Book, 1971)
Photo realistic close-up in watercolour of a large slice of cream filled Victoria sponge
Reposted by Kay Medway
kennnesbitt.bsky.social
Shaun Jex: "Once Upon a Time: Fairytales, Folklore, and Poetry" kennn.com/ABUps1 #ChildrensPoetry #Poetry4kids
@captainquisp.bsky.social‬
kaymedway.bsky.social
www.threads.com/@gcthewriter...

#poem #poetry #prompt

Little silver scenes of moons
are so close he believes it's them,
already landing in his hand,
and they can, and will.
The boy begins as a cliff face  
in my every instance.  
His visions are an assortment,  
an outcrop of reddish, green, and gold  
waterfall's shifting rocks in unexpected shapes.  

His arms swing and sway  
to every side around him,  
caught in the water's rhythm,  
in its capture of every full attention,  
a requisite for its show.  

Little silver scenes of moons  
are so close he believes it's them,  
already landing in his hand,  
and they can, and will.  

A little shred of foliage or shrubbery,  
fixed before it becomes  
like an unfortunate rip of a book page,  
before its thousandth time of being read.
kaymedway.bsky.social
I listened to Brother & Sister by Diane Keaton in one sitting yesterday. It's a memoir about her upbringing and her relationship with her brother, who struggled with mental illness. He was a talented, published poet. I liked hearing his poem about a sea horse. #memoir #poetry
kaymedway.bsky.social
Five o'clock.
Its name reflects it
as a marker of the start
of the last hour.
The last hour of
at least a working day.

Five o'clock.
It feeds back on feasibility
of routines for some,
as they already are.

#poem #poetry #poetrycommunity
Five o'clock.  
Its name reflects it  
as a marker of the start  
of the last hour.  
The last hour of  
at least a working day.  

Five o'clock.  
It feeds back on feasibility  
of routines for some,  
as they already are.  

Five o'clock.  
It takes into account  
placidity of those it wills  
to do good in its constraints.  

Five o'clock.  
It reveals you as a follower of rules  
across a board of options  
and opportunity.  

The photographer of streets.  
His inspiration is mostly found  
in a sulking morning,  
the church light show projected  
only at a too-late hour  
for you to view.  

Grateful for the hours,  
or else I would never have known  
just what I could,  
in time, do.
kaymedway.bsky.social
When I stopped to notice:
the young homeless chap walking into a shop,
saying "You're a gentleman"
to the elderly chap who had paused
and said, "You first," moments before.

@mirandakeeling.com
Reposted by Kay Medway
rlpastore.bsky.social
“Memories are simply moments that refuse to be ordinary”
- Diane Keaton

Thank you for all of the extraordinary moments.
Diane Keaton, 1946-2025
kaymedway.bsky.social
My poem is about using the superlative in a poem.

#poem #poetry #prompt
The Strongest Girl  

I was challenged to a race with my cousin  
by grandparents in a countryside,  
along a path of wood chippings,  
a piggyback ride home promised as a prize.  

I fell near the finish line;  
the finality, the realisation and shock that I wouldn’t win,  
the red sting of my knees,  
the tears.  

Later, I would be reminded of the uncertainty  
of my cousin’s recovery after her accident,  
imaginative of how her hospital stay might unfold,  
though I was too young to visit.  

I realised that if I was failing to sit cross-legged,  
arms folded on the carpet,  
the teacher would notice my upset.  

My solution at twelve was to cry,  
wail aloud at times for no reason at all.  
I wouldn’t realise why.  
It was no silent cry.  

My mum would worry how others might respond:  
the nurses, neighbours, and aunts.  
Until, every day,  
I absorbed myself in the art of getting by,  
even in imperfections.
Reposted by Kay Medway
tracierenee.bsky.social
For an October #PoemsAbout #ImperfectMe, it only seemed right to revisit (tweak again) this piece.

@thebrokenspine.co.uk
@alanparrywriter.co.uk

Thank you, @epistemiclit.bsky.social, for including this poem in issue 4!

Audio: epistemiclit.com/past-issues/...

Print copy: is.gd/epistemiclit...
Listen to the audio of Halloween Masks, a poem by Tracie Renee at: https://epistemiclit.com/past-issues/issue-four/halloween-masks
Reposted by Kay Medway
deemclachlan.bsky.social
Time for another #poemsabout day and the theme this week is #ImperfectMe
Thanks to @alanparrywriter.co.uk and @thebrokenspine.co.uk as always and everyone sharing and supporting #poets
#poetrycommunity #poemalttext #poetry #poems
Wear the Gloves by Dawn McLachlan

In those muddled days after When all was opened doors
And emptied drawers
I remember them
Butter-soft and finest leather
Stitching like the whisper of the needle
Wrapped still in silvered tissue
Faded tags of festive gifting
Unworn
Saved for a "best" too late to know So if you think me too showy
With misplaced colours and gaudy cloth
Fine jewellery worn for no good reason
It is because I have learned to Wear the damn gloves
Reposted by Kay Medway
poetry-with-hart.bsky.social
A piece from my would-be manuscript (probably now a zine series because I'm now a zine-obsessed twaffle) "Behind the Mirror". A bit more simplistic than my usual fair, but it's got a hopeful side to it that you may appreciate. Enjoy 🤗

@alanparrywriter.co.uk

#poemsabout #imperfectme #poem #poetry
Behind the mirror
sits the woman
I hope to become

So much more a sister
a daughter, a partner, a friend
so much more than the sum

of all my pieces
once jagged now soft
from trying to put me together again.

Even a shattered prism
shows a rainbow cavalcade
when put to the light.

Behind the mirror
sits the woman
I hope to become

From this shade
of past folly
a paragon of future promise


-Lin Hart
kaymedway.bsky.social
#wordoftheweek #writingcommunity #writingprompt #writingforchildren #poetrycommunity
kaymedway.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #ImperfectMe

I explore with different line breaks here.
The muse doesn’t distort, like I do,  
    in the quick of a still of her on a YouTube screen.  
Her smile isn’t subtle, unlike mine;  
    it holds our attention, always seen,  
    even in conversation or her concentration on subject.  
The muse impresses, unlike me.  
    She doesn’t have days where her ideas stall  
    or delay in their delivery.

The muse is generous,  
    well-read in everything: in pamphlet and zine.  
The muse is original in her approach.  
    Nothing else you’ll find on the same subject as hers  
    will be exactly identical,  
    though what she offers is universal, relevant,  
    applicable to my little world.

The muse buzzes  
    with the currents and circuits of her inner workings of ideas.  
The muse manages smiles, enthusiastic,  
    and hurries on a Sunday.  
The muse must have a lot to juggle and do,  
    like me too.
kaymedway.bsky.social
#PoemsAbout #ImperfectMe

@thebrokenspine.co.uk

The muse must have
a lot to juggle and do, like me too.

An Imperfect Me Among a Perfect Muse
by Kay Medway

The muse doesn’t distort, like I do,  
in the quick of a still of her on a YouTube screen.  

Her smile isn’t subtle, unlike mine;  
it holds our attention, always seen,  
even in conversation or her concentration on subject.

The muse impresses, unlike me.  
She doesn’t have days  
where her ideas stall  
or delay in their delivery.

The muse is generous,  
well-read in everything:  
in pamphlet and zine.  
The muse is original in her approach.  
Nothing else you’ll find  
on the same subject as hers  
will be exactly identical,  
though what she offers is universal,  
relevant,  
applicable to my little world.


The muse buzzes  
with the currents and circuits  
of her inner workings of ideas.

The muse manages smiles,  
enthusiastic,  
and hurries on a Sunday.

The muse must have  
a lot to juggle and do, like me too.
Reposted by Kay Medway
thebrokenspine.co.uk
It begins: #PoemsAbout #ImperfectMe. Share from today ‘til Thursday. Tag your work or it’s lost. Use Alt Text if there’s an image. #TakeRisks #EndOnAnImage #AvoidCliché. Read/repost/reply to 3+. No ghosting. For weekly prompts: shorturl.at/0Xm7A
An ornate antique mirror with a heavily tarnished and speckled surface, reflecting a faint, distorted background. The frame is baroque-style, featuring elaborate gold and black detailing with a sculpted lion's face at the top. In the top left is The Broken Spine logo shaped like a fountain pen nib. The website "@thebrokenspine.co.uk" is written in white at the top right. At the bottom right, bold white text reads: "Read Repost Reply #POEMSABOUT #IMPERFECTME".
Reposted by Kay Medway
thetoypress.bsky.social
Hello, here is your #wordoftheweek!

#writingcommunity #writingforchildren #writingprompt #poetryforkids #PoetryCommunity #poetryforchildren #kidlit
Reposted by Kay Medway
nimblewitlit.bsky.social
Hey #kidlit #poets! We're looking for a few camping/nature poems for a school collaboration. I'd love for these to be in a variety of forms. DM us or email @ [email protected] if you've got something that fits this. These will be used as examples for kids during their camping themed lit night!
Reposted by Kay Medway
thebrokenspine.co.uk
New theme lands tomorrow: #PoemsAbout #ImperfectMe. Don’t post early—Friday to Thursday only. Give the mess its moment. Use Alt Text. Tag #PoemsAbout to be seen. Get sharp prompts sent direct: shorturl.at/0Xm7A
An ornate antique mirror with a heavily tarnished and speckled surface, reflecting a faint, distorted background. The frame is baroque-style, featuring elaborate gold and black detailing with a sculpted lion's face at the top. In the top left is The Broken Spine logo shaped like a fountain pen nib. The website "@thebrokenspine.co.uk" is written in white at the top right. At the bottom right, bold white text reads: "Read Repost Reply #POEMSABOUT #IMPERFECTME".
Reposted by Kay Medway
toddedillard.bsky.social
my issue of Threepenny is here! here’s my poem “Present Tense,” I would love for you to give it a read!

“I know this so loudly I don’t
hear, at first, my father’s silence.”
Present Tense
by Todd Dillard

My father’s telling me about his dog,
how it fell into a well
when they were walking down a wooded path.
His dog ran across some rotted planks,
the planks splintered, “And whoosh!”
my father says. “No more dog.”
I look at the clock and remind my father it’s three A.M.
“I’m not finished,” he says.
He tells me about the rope he bought, the bucket,
how he knotted the rope to the bucket, lowered it down,
and yelled for the dog to get in.
“But all I pulled up was more barking.”
“Dad,” I say. “This never happened.”
He says he can’t remember 
how long he tried to get the dog 
to shimmy into the bucket.
Just that at some point
when the sky turned tawny—“Dad—“
as a pitcher of sweet tea—“Dad—“
he decided to give up.
“Dad,” I say. “It’s late.
I’m tired. And you’re dead.”
“Dammit, son,” my father says. “Let me finish!”
My father tells me about filling the bucket with dirt 
and pouring the dirt into the well.
And I know what he’s getting at, I know
he’s going to tell me bucket by bucket
he filled the well and 
the dog jumped out. He’s going to say
something about how the dog
led him home through the dark.
I know this so loudly I don’t
hear, at first, my father’s silence.
“Dad?” I say. “Dad, are you there?”
I keep lowering the bucket
but all I ever pull up are leaves.
Red leaves. Lately, some gold.
Reposted by Kay Medway
kaymedway.bsky.social
Sunday Supplement
Leaf through the fashion glosses
Where to buy the new

#SmallPoemSunday #Haiku
Reposted by Kay Medway
litbowl.bsky.social
Absolutely love that final phrase.

From @kathyfagan.bsky.social's book, Bad Hobby: bookshop.org/a/862/9781571315458

#poetry #books #writing