Month: September 2025

BIO: Sam Bartle was born in Hull, England and has received publication in numerous poetry magazines and journals, including Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Wildfire Words, Pomona Valley Review, Dreich, The Writer’s Club, Green Ink Poetry and Poetry Lab Shanghai.

He performs regularly at open mic events in the Hull and York region, also at The High Wolds Poetry Festival and Driffield Literary Festival, and has made various local radio appearances.

A suite of nine poems about the planets in our solar system, and the dwarf planet Pluto, entitled ‘The Planetary Ennead’, was published in March 2023, and Sam has recently expanded into visual arts with commissioned audiovisual interpretations of this and other poetic works, including interactive QR audio trails and exhibitions for the Bath Fringe Festival, Pocklington Arts Centre, Hull Minster, York City Screen, Yorkshire Wildlife Trust, and East Riding Festival Of Words.

In 2024, Sam’s debut collection, ‘Emergent Dreams’ was published by Alien Buddha Press and is available now on Amazon .

Sam has a website and blogs about his and other poetry at www.poetinverse.com .

The Door

Never showing a glimmer of inside,
A wall in all but name.
It matters not, I still decide,
To love you all the same.

This closed portal that entices my mind,
Fixed shut, steadfast and sure.
Though intentions are more than kind,
I am forever poor.

Worshipped, adored, in all kinds of esteems,
Oh, that I could say more.
Hopeless wishes, desperate dreams,
Lay dying, at the door.

Behind, withholds the happiness I seek,
Bountiful in its store.
Yet, no shudder, nor shake, nor creak,
The still, unmoving door.

The tide is out as the Moon wanes,
Waves recede from the shore.
I’ll walk this land,
But my heart remains
Here, outside, the door.

First published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal

Some Thoughts On Love

Oh what a thing that love can be,
Seeking its face in all we see,
Captured, by its power to free,
As long as we have it, that is all.

Bless young hearts, of gentle joy,
Before sorrowed love’s employ,
May tend to tear them, or destroy,
Withered and ravaged by that quest.

Love, the stranger on fortune’s wheel,
Never to touch, never to feel,
Elusive, transitory, unreal,
Like a faint face seen in the clouds.

Or, Love, that makes all troubles pale,
Masks the cruel world with its veil,
Infuses joy in your life’s tale,
Ever present, there at your side.

To some, a shimmer, of delight,
That came to break an endless night,
For others, love is always bright,
They bathe in its forever dawn.

We hope and wonder, will it keep,
Or, over years, die, or sleep,
Love is rare, and lust is cheap,
Cradle, with care, good fortune’s hand.

If love could be for evermore,
Then welcome it with open door,
And fight to save it, clutch and claw,
Its peace won’t find a shielded soul.

From stricken-poor, to kings and queens,
The old, infirm, or fresh-faced teens,
Life may knock, and kick, and shove,
But nothing marks us quite like Love.


First published in Emergent Dreams

The Passing Year

Can one be but in shock and awe
As tides shift swiftly against or for?
From contentment’s heart, into despair,
Or rise from shadow, to good fortune’s glare.

In so short a time, life is up or down,
New births or romances, fill hearts with joy.
Then fate can topple your brief, fragile crown,
Adjust its gaze, with intent to destroy.

Forget the hate that crushed your soul -
Bitterness breeds nothing but ill laments,
That unwelcome events may well cajole,
But only ever at your own expense.

Do push on, persist through the woeful times,
Whatever should be the source of your pain.
The journey will yield much sunnier climes,
With the passing of night, the clouds, and rain.

And when good favour once more gives you grace,
To banish the trouble that caused your blight,
These different worlds, all in the same space,
In transience, come and go from your sight.

I can’t fail to wonder, at all these things,
To be amazed, by what the passing year brings.

First published in Pomona Valley Review

Hope

We can all lose heart and lose sight,
Leave dreams outside closed doors,
And perhaps one day you just might
Seek to surrender yours.

The plights of life can take their toll,
All seems a seething mess.
Clipped wings can ground the free-est soul
With troubles relentless.

But, Hope can radiate the sky,
Power, to free a mind.
To un-clip wings and let them fly,
Give courage to our kind.

So despairer, let it fill your heart,
Like desert that meets rain.
Let aspiration be your art,
Come back to Hope again.

Your problem, while it feels unique,
You will not be the first.
And trust me friend, though it is bleak,
Yours will not be the worst.

Don’t dwell on what may seem unfair,
Keep moving on your way,
And you might find that Hope is there,
In everything you say.

First published in Emergent Dreams

Everyone

Everywhere is a moment
Every time is a space
Everything has an order
Everyone has a place.

Every earth has a sun
Every species, a race
Every creature is connected
Everyone has a face

Every life is a canvas
Every decision, a choice
Every story has a maker
Everyone has a voice.

A result for every act
A deed forever done
A rise for every fall
A place.  For everyone.

First published in Wildfire Words