Tessera

Joshua Walker

@bigjosh84.bsky.social

I take up space, even when the world says I shouldn’t. Poet. Observer. Rebel of thought. Every heartbeat a manifesto. Resisting always. 💙 2025 Pushcart & Best Microfiction Nominee https://www.amazon.com/Least-Weird-Person-Awake/dp/B0GT1262KP

1008 Posts157191 Follower 152170 Folgt

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 2d ago

Somewhere between becoming who we were supposed to be and surviving who we had to become, most of us misplaced a piece of ourselves. Maybe poetry is how I look for what I lost. What about you? Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about how people sometimes abandon pieces of themselves to become easier for others to accept, and the courage required to reclaim those lost selves.

Where I Left Myself

I think I left

a version of myself

in every room

where I learned

to become easier to love.

One stopped laughing.

One lowered his voice.

One apologized

for taking up space.

I have spent years

calling them maturity.

Tonight,

I am going back

for everyone.

A poem about becoming so quiet, obedient, and careful as a child that distress goes unnoticed and disappearance is mistaken for good behavior.

The Good Child

I became so good

at causing no trouble

that no one noticed

when I disappeared.

I ate what was given.

Said I was fine.

Carried my sadness

like a glass filled

to the rim.

Everyone praised

how carefully

I walked.

No one asked

why I was trembling.

A poem about looking at an old photograph and grieving the uninhibited joy that existed before shame and other people’s expectations took hold.

Old Photograph

There is a photograph

of me before I knew

my face could disappoint people.

I am laughing

with my whole body,

mouth open,

eyes nearly gone.

Sometimes I study it

like evidence

from a missing-person case.

Not because I want

to be young again.

Because I want to know

where that laughter went.

A poem about realizing that healing may not mean returning to a former self, but creating someone new from everything that survived and came home.

Return Address

I keep waiting

to feel like myself again,

as though the person I was

has been delayed

in the mail.

But maybe healing

is not a return.

Maybe there is no address

where the old me

still lives.

Maybe I am building

someone new

from everything

that made it home.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · last wk.

A text arriving at the right moment. A dog choosing your lap. Someone remembering how you take your coffee. Life keeps hiding miracles inside ordinary packaging. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about being included in someone’s moment of wonder and how a simple phone call can become proof of closeness.

Emergency Contact

You called

just to tell me

the moon looked strange.

No crisis.

No confession.

Just proof

that somewhere in the world

something beautiful happened,

and for one small moment,

you thought

I should be there too.

A poem about love appearing through attention, memory, and the small details someone takes the time to learn.

How You Take It

You remembered

two sugars,

no cream,

the chipped blue mug

I always choose.

People speak of love

as thunder,

but sometimes

it is simply

someone paying attention

long enough

to learn your weather.

A poem about the healing power of being chosen without judgment by an animal who sees only warmth and need.

Chosen

The dog crossed

a room full of people

and rested her head

against my knee.

She knew nothing

of my failures,

the names I regret,

or the nights

I barely survived myself.

She only knew

I was warm

and needed choosing.

A poem about ordinary acts of kindness and how salvation often arrives quietly through everyday people.

Small Gods

The neighbor

brought our trash bin in

before the rain.

Someone held the elevator.

A stranger returned

the wallet I had already mourned.

We keep waiting

for heaven to split open,

never noticing

how often salvation arrives

wearing ordinary shoes.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 3w ago

Okay so forgive me, unfortunately I don’t have a direct video to share so here’s a Facebook link; here’s the OETA Gallery America feature on me. It’s a genuine honor to be featured by such a legendary series. www.facebook.com/share/v/1FLW...

facebook.com

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 3w ago

Somewhere today, a stranger is humming the same song you are and neither of you will ever know. Being human is strange and occasionally beautiful. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about how an ordinary question can feel dangerous to someone who has become skilled at hiding what they are really feeling.

Small Talk

“How have you been?”

is such a dangerous question

to ask someone

who has practiced

saying “fine”

with perfect timing.

A poem about missing someone so deeply that every small moment becomes a reason to reach for them.

Almost Called

I almost called you

three times today.

Once when something funny happened.

Once when everything went wrong.

Once for no reason at all,

which was probably

the real reason.

A poem about how small daily actions can become quiet acts of courage when simply staying present feels difficult.

Proof of Life

Some days

the bravest thing I do

is answer a message,

wash one plate,

open the curtains,

and let the world know

I have not disappeared.

A poem about two people separated by distance but possibly thinking of each other beneath the same night sky.

Same Moon

Tonight,

someone you miss

may be standing beneath

the same moon,

thinking of you

with the same impossible distance

caught in their throat.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 4w ago

It’s kind of incredible that human beings keep doing taxes and buying cereal while fully aware of their own mortality. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about how ordinary grocery shopping quietly reveals our hopes, responsibilities, and plans for the future.

Shopping Cart

Every shopping cart
contains a universe.

Cat food.
Frozen pizza.
Laundry detergent.
Birthday candles.

Proof that hope
often looks like

planning
for next Thursday.

A poem about the difference between finding what we need in a store and searching for meaning in life, hidden inside an ordinary exchange at the checkout.

Receipt

The cashier asked,

“Did you find everything?”

I almost said,

“No.

I’m still looking.”

Instead I smiled,

paid,

and bought bananas.

A poem using a GPS as a metaphor for life, reflecting on how certainty is easy for machines but much harder for people.

Directions

The GPS said,

“You have arrived.”

I laughed.

If only life
announced itself
that confidently.

Most days

we’re just recalculating.

A poem about preparing tomorrow’s coffee and realizing that simple daily routines are quiet acts of hope and faith in another day.

Tomorrow’s Coffee

Before bed

I set the coffee pot
to brew
at six.

A tiny act
of optimism.

Every night
I quietly assume

there will be
another morning.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · last mo.

I think most of us are carrying entire chapters of our lives that nobody knows about. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about recognizing love through quiet actions rather than spoken words, and how care is often expressed in everyday moments.

Things I Heard (You Never Said)

You never said
“I’m proud of you.”

You asked if I’d eaten.
You told me to drive safe.
You waited for the phone to ring.

Love rarely sounded
the way I expected.

It sounded like ordinary concern
wearing work clothes.

A poem about looking back on childhood, losing certainty with age, and still appreciating the hope carried by the person you once were.

The Boy I Used to Be

The boy I used to be
thought grown-ups knew everything.

Now I’m older
and I know better.

Sometimes I miss him.

Not because he was right,

but because he believed
tomorrow always arrived
carrying good news.

A poem about memory, nostalgia, and how the past often feels warmer and closer than it truly was because memory reshapes what we remember.

The Illusion of Yesterday

Yesterday feels close enough
to wave at.

But every road back
leads somewhere new.

Memory rebuilds old houses
with fresh paint.

It remembers laughter
better than silence.

It leaves the lights on
for people who have long since gone.

Then asks us
to call them home.

A poem about how dreams change with age, shifting from chasing success to finding meaning in simple moments, home, and the people we love.

7 Dreams (A Better Way)

I dreamed of money.
I dreamed of fame.
I dreamed of escape.

I thought happiness
was waiting somewhere else.

Now I dream
of a slower morning,
a full table,
someone glad I came home.

Funny how growing older
teaches you
the better dream. 💙

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · last mo.

Some days I think the whole point of art is reminding each other we’re not alone. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about unseen struggles, observing a stranger in a grocery store, and realizing how many private battles people carry through ordinary days.

The Stranger in Aisle Nine

I watched a woman
standing in the cereal aisle
staring at nothing.

Not shopping.

Just standing there.

The way people do
when they’re carrying something heavy
that has nothing to do with groceries.

A minute later she smiled,
grabbed a box,
and kept moving.

I don’t know why
but I think about her often.

How many quiet battles
have walked past me unnoticed.

A poem about music, shared emotions, and the way songs connect people across time and distance through common experiences.

The Song

A song came on the radio
and suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore.

Not because somebody was there.

Because somewhere, sometime,
another human being
felt this exact thing,

and cared enough
to give it a melody.

That feels miraculous to me.

The distance between two strangers
crossed by three chords
and the truth.

A poem about finding hope in small moments, acts of kindness, and everyday experiences that help us through difficult times.

Borrowed Light

Some nights
I survive entirely on borrowed light.

A friend’s joke.
A line from a book.
A stranger holding a door.
A dog happy to see me.

Tiny things.

Tiny ridiculous things.

Yet somehow
they keep the darkness
from becoming the whole sky.

A poem about art, connection, and the feeling of discovering that someone else has experienced the same emotions and struggles we have.

Proof

Every poem I’ve ever loved
felt less like reading

and more like discovery.

Like finding a note
someone hid years ago
that simply said:

“I was here too.”

Sometimes I think
that’s all art really is.

A trail of footprints
leading through the dark.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 2mo ago

Thank you all for the birthday wishes yesterday! 💙 I am now one year older and approximately the same amount of weird. Anyway, it’s Tuesday. Here are some poems. #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about how small moments can stay with us long after the details have faded, and how a single memory can outlive entire chapters of our lives.

The Call

I still remember
a phone call from twenty years ago.

Not what was said.

Just the sound of a friend’s laughter
coming through the receiver
like sunlight through a window.

Funny what survives.

Whole relationships disappear.
Addresses vanish.
Photographs fade.

And yet one laugh
keeps ringing through the years
as if it happened this morning.

A poem about finding an old receipt and realizing that even the smallest traces of our lives can become proof that we were here.

Jacket Pocket

I found an old receipt
in a jacket pocket.

Coffee. Gasoline.
A pack of cigarettes.

Twelve dollars and eighty-seven cents.

Proof that on some forgotten Tuesday
I existed.

I stood somewhere.
I bought something.
I was moving through the world.

Strange how a scrap of paper
can outlive a moment
and make it real again.

A poem about the quiet importance of ordinary places and how they become part of our lives simply by being there through the passing years.

The Bench

There is a park bench
I sat on every week for years.

Nothing important happened there.

No great love.
No revelation.
No life-changing decision.

Just a thousand ordinary afternoons.

And yet if they tore it out tomorrow
I would mourn it.

Because sometimes a place
becomes part of your story
simply by witnessing it.

A poem about another year passing and the realization that life’s biggest meanings are often hidden inside its smallest moments.

Another Year

Another year arrived quietly.

No trumpet.
No cosmic announcement.

Just morning coffee.
A dog asking to go outside.
The familiar creak of the floor.

The universe keeps its biggest secrets
inside the smallest moments.

Which is probably why
I keep writing them down.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 2mo ago

It’s my birthday today. I turn 25- for the 17th year in a row. 🎂 Two birthday requests. Honor system: 1. Do something kind for someone today. Hold a door, buy a coffee, send a kind word, or just be kind to yourself. 2. Read something. Anything. Take 5 minutes and read. That’s all.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 2mo ago

Sometimes life gets loud enough that we forget who we are beneath all the noise. These poems are for that quieter voice. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about the unspoken truths people carry with them every day, and how some thoughts become heavier because they are never shared.

The Things We Don’t Say

Most people are carrying
one sentence
they never say out loud.

Not because it’s secret.

Because once spoken,
it becomes real.

So they carry it instead.

Through grocery stores.
Through birthdays.
Through ordinary Tuesdays.

A whole universe
balanced on the edge
of a single conversation.

A poem about the quiet ways people leave lasting marks on the world, and how the most important evidence of a life is often found in the people touched by it.

Evidence

The world keeps asking
for proof.

Proof you mattered.
Proof you loved.
Proof you were here.

But I think the evidence
looks different.

A favorite recipe
written in your handwriting.

A phrase your daughter still uses.

A story that survives you.

The people who smile
without remembering
where they learned it.

A poem about how ordinary moments often shape our lives more than major events, and how small acts of kindness and connection quietly become part of our history.

The Weight of Small Things

Nobody remembers
the average Tuesday.

And yet our lives
are mostly made of them.

A phone call answered.

A door held open.

A cup of coffee
left on a desk
for someone who needed it.

History is built from moments
too small to become history.

A poem about love expressed through everyday actions, and how the simplest gestures can create a sense of belonging and care.

The Light We Leave On

Sometimes I think
love is simply this:

Leaving a light on
for someone running late.

Saving them a seat.

Remembering how they take their coffee.

Not grand speeches.

Not fireworks.

Just a thousand quiet ways
of saying:

When you arrive,

there will be a place for you. 💙

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 2mo ago

I swear I'm going to stop showing up every day with another update eventually. That said... Can anyone explain why Jonathan Thompson from OETA's Gallery America (PBS) and his production partner Legacy were outside my house this morning I have theories. Most of them are concerning.😃 More soon.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 2mo ago

Breaking News: Against all known laws of nature, a poet has successfully infiltrated a comic shop. I'll be signing books at Speeding Bullet Comics' 28th Anniversary Celebration on June 13th from 12-3 PM. Come say hi if you’re in the area.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 2mo ago

Some people accidentally become important to us and never realize it. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPo

A poem about how brief encounters with strangers can stay with us for years, and how a few kind words at the right moment can quietly help someone survive.

The Girl at the Gas Station

Years ago
a girl at a gas station
looked at my cigarettes,
looked at my face,
and said:

“Whatever it is,
you survive it, okay?”

That was it.

I never saw her again.

But sometimes
when my life gets dark enough
to start whispering things at me,

I still hear her voice
like a match striking somewhere
far away.

A poem about the small moments through which people become important to us, often without ever realizing the impact they had.

Somebody Probably Remembers You

Somebody probably remembers you
for something small.

The way you stayed after class
to help them pick papers up.
The joke you made
when they were trying not to cry.
The night you answered the phone
instead of letting it ring.

You won’t remember any of it.

That’s the strange part.

We become important to people
without ever realizing
we were standing
in the middle of a memory.

A poem about loneliness, routine, and how even the smallest acts of kindness can briefly reconnect someone to the world around them.

The Man at Table Seven

Every Thursday
an old man eats alone
at the diner near my apartment.

Always table seven.
Always black coffee.
Always reads the sports section twice.

Last week
the waitress touched his shoulder
when she refilled his cup
and he smiled
like someone had briefly
returned him to the world.

I think about that constantly.

How little it can take
to keep a person here.

A poem about how people leave emotional traces inside one another, shaping lives in ways they often never realize.

We Leave Pieces Behind

I think people imagine
we leave our lives cleanly.

But we don’t.

We leave fingerprints
inside each other.

A phrase someone steals from you.
A song you accidentally ruin forever.
A habit somebody keeps
because you once said it was beautiful.

Most of us
are walking around
made from other people’s ghosts.

Dog Throat Journal @dogthroat.com · 3mo ago

"I’ve seen the machine, and I know its gospel: every button is a story, and every story is a lie that once made someone live.." - Joshua Walker #writing #micro #fiction #writingcommunity @bigjosh84.bsky.social

The Rapture Machine by Joshua Walker

They buried God in a vending machine behind the old roller rink... The Rapture Machine by Joshua Walker

dogthroat.com

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 3mo ago

Growing older is realizing how many versions of yourself survived long enough to become you. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about carrying every past version of yourself into adulthood, and realizing that growing older is less about becoming new and more about learning to live with who you’ve already been.

The People I Used to Be

I still think about
the people I used to be.

The boy who thought thirty was ancient.
The teenager who mistook loneliness
for intelligence.
The version of me
who stayed too long
because he thought love meant endurance.

They’re all still here somehow—
layered inside my voice
like old songs
playing beneath the static.

Growing older
isn’t becoming someone new.

It’s learning how to carry
everyone you’ve already been.

A poem about how memories can suddenly pull us backward in time, and how some emotional parts of ourselves never fully move on.

Time Travel

I used to think time travel
would feel impossible.

But then one day
I heard a song from high school
in a grocery store
and suddenly I was seventeen again—

heartbroken over things
I can’t even remember clearly now.

That’s the terrifying part.

Not that time moves forward.
That parts of us
never do.

A poem comparing growing older to becoming a museum filled with memories, regrets, and former versions of yourself that still linger inside you.

Nobody Warns You About This

Nobody warns you
that growing older
means becoming a museum
of former selves.

Every room holds something different:
a person you loved,
a mistake you replay at 2 a.m.,
a version of yourself
you almost miss.

And every year
you walk those halls
a little differently.

A poem about surviving difficult moments that could have changed your life forever, and learning to treat your own survival with more kindness and tenderness.

Survival Story

Sometimes I wonder
how many times
my life could have become
someone else’s tragedy.

One worse decision.
One different night.
One moment of giving up
instead of waiting five more minutes.

But here I am—
older than some versions of me
ever imagined I’d be.

And I think that deserves
a little more tenderness
than I usually give it.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 3mo ago

People are stranger, softer, sadder, and kinder than we usually admit. That’s probably why poetry exists. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about how everyone carries invisible struggles and histories, and how small acts of kindness matter more than we realize.

Everyone Is Carrying Something

The cashier smiled too quickly.
The man in traffic looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
A woman laughed at something on her phone
and then immediately looked sad again.

We pass each other constantly
without understanding the weight being moved around.

Whole childhoods
hidden inside ordinary faces.
Grief folded into grocery lists.
Loneliness standing in line for coffee.

And still—
people hold doors open for each other.

Which might be the most important thing
any of us do.

A poem about how pain can make people more gentle and attentive instead of cruel, and why that kind of kindness matters.

The Kindest People I Know

The kindest people I know
have all been broken strangely.

Not dramatically.
Not beautifully.

Just enough to make them careful
with the hearts of others.

They speak gently
because they know what sharpness does.
They notice when someone goes quiet.
They remember things people meant as jokes
but weren’t.

Pain didn’t make them cruel.

That feels important.

A poem about how people leave permanent marks on one another, and how even brief moments or conversations can stay with us forever.

Sometimes We Become Each Other

I used to think people stayed separate.

Your life over there.
Mine over here.

But that’s not how it works.

Someone says one sentence
at the right moment
and suddenly they live in your head forever.

A teacher.
A stranger.
A friend you haven’t spoken to in years.

We carry pieces of each other constantly.

That’s why goodbye
never fully works.

A poem about the contradictions of humanity—our capacity for both beauty and harm—and the complicated hope of continuing to care for one another anyway.

Human Beings Are Incredible and Terrible

Human beings are incredible.

We write songs.
We build cathedrals.
We stay awake beside hospital beds.
We teach children how to read.

And human beings are terrible.

We hurt each other for comfort.
We confuse power with wisdom.
We destroy things we don’t understand.

And somehow—
every morning—
we wake up together again
and try anyway.

I don’t know what to do with that
except love people carefully.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 3mo ago

For anyone who hasn’t seen it yet here’s the YouTube links for my recent segment on the news. m.youtube.com/watch?v=Jy-R...

An insomniac OKC poet pens 'The Least Weird Person Awake'

YouTube video by KFOR Oklahoma's News 4

m.youtube.com

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 3mo ago

KFOR aired a feature on my poetry/book tonight, which still feels a little surreal honestly. Huge thanks to Galen Culver and the crew for the opportunity. Segment: kfor.com/news/great-s... Book: www.amazon.com/dp/B0GT1262KP #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity

An insomniac OKC poet pens ‘The Least Weird Person Awake’

OKLAHOMA CITY (KFOR) — Writing poetry doesn’t involve physical labor. Authors like Joshua Walker spend long hours, though, often late at night, coming up with just the right line, after refer…

kfor.com

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 3mo ago

Not every day is meant to be big. Some days are just about being. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about staying present in difficult moments, even when nothing improves, and recognizing that simply remaining is meaningful.

The Quiet Moment

There are moments
nothing changes—

no revelation,
no healing,
no light breaking through.

Just you
in a room
with everything you’ve carried
longer than you meant to.

And still—
you stay.

You don’t run.
You don’t disappear.

That matters
more than anyone says.

A poem about personal agency and self-worth, emphasizing that you don’t need to shrink yourself to fit others’ expectations.

You Are Allowed to Take Up Space

You don’t have to earn your existence
by being useful,
or quiet,
or easy to keep.

You don’t owe the world
a smaller version of yourself.

Stand where you are.
Speak when you need to.
Take the space
that is already yours.

You were never meant
to fit inside someone else’s comfort.

A poem about presence and the idea that not every moment requires solutions, and that simply existing in the present can be enough.

This Second

This second
isn’t asking you to fix your life.

It isn’t asking you
to solve the past
or secure the future.

It just exists—
open, unfinished,
waiting to be noticed.

And if you do,
even for a moment—

you might find
that being here
is already enough.

A poem about quiet progress and how growth often happens in small, unseen ways that still move us forward.

The Way We Keep Going

We don’t always move forward
in ways you can see.

Sometimes it’s this—
breathing through the moment,
answering one question,
staying in one conversation
a little longer than you want to.

It doesn’t look like progress.

But it is.

The smallest acts of being
are how we build
a life that holds.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 4mo ago

We spend so much time hoping for tomorrow we forget to live today. These poems are for the now. Book link one post down if you want it. 💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #amwriting #poems

This poem is about grounding yourself in the present moment instead of living in fear of the future or regret of the past. It focuses on the idea that the only thing we truly have is right now—and that can be enough.

The Hour We’re In
This is the hour we actually have—
not the one we feared this morning,
not the one we’re bargaining for tonight.

The clock doesn’t care about our plans.
It hands us breath
and leaves us with it.

Look—
your hands are still yours,
your name still answers when called,
the world hasn’t closed its fist.

This is it.
Not forever.
But enough.

Nothing Grand

This poem reflects on quiet survival. It rejects the idea that strength has to be dramatic or visible, and instead honors the small, unnoticed act of continuing to exist.

Nothing Grand
No thunder split when I stayed.
No choir rose when I chose to breathe.

The moment didn’t ask for courage—
only that I remain.

Coffee cooling on the table,
light humming overhead,
the ordinary holding
without asking why.

No miracle—
just a quiet refusal
to disappear.

What Didn’t Leave

This poem explores the tension between past and future, and the struggle to stay present. It suggests that not everything needs to be solved, and that some things we fear losing are still with us—just quieter.

What Didn’t Leave
The future kept calling me forward,
the past kept pulling my sleeve,
but something stubborn in my chest said—
stay.

Not everything needs solving.
Not everything earns a meaning tonight.

The air is enough.
The pulse is enough.

What I thought I was losing
didn’t leave—
it just stopped shouting.

Right Here, Still

This poem challenges the idea that survival has to look heroic or dramatic. It reframes it as something quiet and often invisible, but still powerful—choosing to remain, even without recognition.

Right Here, Still
I thought survival would be louder—
a speech,
an anthem carved into the sky.

But it’s this—
a body in a chair,
a breath that didn’t quit,
a moment that held.

No one applauds this part.
No headlines for staying.

Still—
here I am,
unremarkable and undefeated,
in the smallest second imaginable,

and still here.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 4mo ago

My first book The Least Weird Person Awake is out now. If you’ve connected with my work and decide you want to support it, you can find it here: www.amazon.com/Least-Weird-... Thank you for reading.

The Least Weird Person Awake

Amazon.com: The Least Weird Person Awake: 9798249215934: Walker, Joshua, Buddha, Alien: Books

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Paper Sigh @papersigh.bsky.social · 4mo ago

We're so happy to publish @bigjosh84.bsky.social 's poem HOLD MUSIC. Read it at www.papersigh.com/poetry #poetry #poetrysky #poems

Partial image of poem HOLD MUSIC by Joshua Walker at PaperSigh.com

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 4mo ago

The world doesn’t always make it easy to keep going. Still—we do. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about enduring through quiet, exhausting moments where survival doesn’t feel heroic, but simply continuing to exist still matters.

Still Here

There were days
I didn’t think I would make it.

Not in some dramatic way—
just a slow erosion
of wanting to try.

The kind of tired
that settles into your bones
and calls itself permanent.

But I’m still here.

And that has to mean something—
even if I don’t know what yet.

A poem about how survival is often made up of small, unnoticed actions that keep us going when things feel overwhelming.

The Small Ways We Survive

It’s not always the big things.

Sometimes survival looks like
getting out of bed
when there’s no reason to.

Answering a message.
Drinking water.
Choosing not to disappear.

Nobody applauds those moments.

But they add up—
quiet victories
stacked so carefully
they almost look like living.

A poem about how we carry our past experiences with us, shaping how we think, feel, and connect, even when we believe we’ve moved on.

What We Carry Forward

We don’t leave things behind
the way we say we do.

We carry them—
in how we hesitate,
in what we avoid,
in the way we love too carefully
or too much.

The past doesn’t disappear.

It changes shape
and walks with us
into everything.

A poem about the quiet, unexplainable determination that keeps us moving forward, even when there’s no clear reason to continue.

We Keep Going Anyway

There’s no clean reason for it.

No perfect answer
for why we keep moving forward
when it would be easier
to stop.

And still—
we wake up.
We try again.
We stay.

Not because it makes sense.

Because something in us
refuses
to end here.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 4mo ago

Maybe the point isn’t to have everything figured out. Maybe the point is to keep showing up anyway. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about outgrowing past versions of yourself and the strange feeling of no longer recognizing who you used to be.

I Met Myself and Didn’t Recognize Him

I passed myself in a memory
and didn’t stop.

He looked familiar—
like someone I used to trust.

Same hands.
Same voice.

But there was something different
in the way he stood—

like he still believed
things I had already buried.

I almost called out to him.

But I kept walking.

Some versions of us
are better left alive
in the past.

A poem about how time doesn’t really move on but instead folds, allowing memories and emotions to return as if they never left.

Time Doesn’t Move Forward

Time doesn’t move forward.

It folds.

That’s why a smell
can take you back ten years
in a single breath.

Why a song
can reopen something
you swore was gone.

Nothing leaves.

It just waits—
pressed between moments
like pages in a book
you keep pretending
you’ve finished.

A poem exploring how indifference, not hate, is the true opposite of love, and how the absence of feeling can be more final than anger.

The Opposite of Love Isn’t Hate

The opposite of love
isn’t hate.

Hate still remembers.
Still burns.
Still cares enough
to feel something.

No—
the opposite of love
is the day you realize
you don’t feel anything at all.

No anger.
No longing.
No need to understand.

Just silence
where something once mattered.

A poem about the strange and confusing nature of human existence, and how despite everything not making sense, we still find ways to connect and love.

We Are All Pretending This Makes Sense

We wake up.
We work.
We speak in small, careful ways
about things that don’t matter
because the things that do
are too big to hold.

We act like this is normal.

Like it makes sense
to exist at all
in a universe
that never explained itself.

And somehow—
we still find ways
to love each other
inside all that confusion.

Which might be
the strangest thing
of all.

Every Day Fiction @everydayfiction.bsky.social · 4mo ago

Read THE JOKE’S ON YOU • by Joshua Walker – The Last Bard @bigjosh84.bsky.social -- Stories -- #AprilFools'Day #HauntedHouses everydayfiction.com?p=24131

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 4mo ago

Not every truth arrives loud. Some of it waits—quiet, patient—until you’re finally ready to hear it. Here’s some poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

A poem about what remains after everything burns away—the idea that even when we lose the softest parts of ourselves, something stronger and unbreakable survives.

What Survives the Fire

They told us we would burn—
and we did.

Not all at once.
Not clean.

Piece by piece—
the soft parts first,
the trusting parts,
the names we used when we still believed
someone would answer.

But something stayed.

Something ugly and bright
and impossible to kill.

And now when they look at us
they don’t see ashes—

they see what fire couldn’t take.

A poem about the fear of being truly seen and understood, and how vulnerability can feel more dangerous than isolation.

The Quiet Violence of Being Seen

You looked at me
like you understood—

and that was the worst part.

Because I did not come here
to be known.

I built this carefully:
the distance,
the version of myself
that survives introductions.

But you—
you stepped past all of it
like it wasn’t real.

And now I have to decide
which is more dangerous—

being alone,
or being understood.

A poem about how we learn to hide pain and function through it, turning survival into something that looks like strength from the outside.

We Learned to Smile Like This

We learned to smile
with our teeth closed.

To say “I’m fine”
in a voice that didn’t shake.

To carry whole storms
in the space between two breaths
and call it normal.

Nobody taught us how to break—
so we didn’t.

We adapted.

Turned pain into posture,
into timing,
into something that almost looks like grace.

And now people call us strong
like it didn’t cost anything.

There Is a Version of Us That Wins

Not the loud one.
Not the one they write stories about.

The quiet one.

The one who kept going
when no one was watching,
when nothing changed,
when it would have been easier
to disappear.

That version of us
is still moving.

Still choosing.
Still here.

And one day—
without warning—
that will be the version
that wins.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 5mo ago

No buildup. No rollout. My book “The Least Weird Person Awake” drops April 18. I’ll have links up when it’s live if you want one. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 5mo ago

Children in schools should never be an acceptable cost of war. Resist. Thinking of the students and teachers at the Shajareh Tayyebeh girls’ primary school. Resist. These poems are for them. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet #resist

This poem reflects on the basic things every child deserves—safety, education, and a normal day at school—and how the world fails when those simple protections disappear.

What the World Owes Children

A roof.
A desk.
A teacher
who says good morning.

A day that arrives
without fear.

Anything less than that
is a failure
we should never accept.

This poem is a personal reflection on how heavy the world can feel when you see suffering in the news, and the effort it takes to remember that kindness still exists.

A Thought I Had Today

Some days the world
feels heavier than it should.

You read the news,
close the screen,
and sit there a moment
trying to remember

that people are still capable
of kindness
even when history
forgets how.

This poem focuses on the quiet ways people help one another, reminding us that even when the world feels broken, ordinary people often step in to care for each other.

We’ll Be Okay

I’ve seen people
pull strangers from rivers.

I’ve seen neighbors
show up with food
when the lights went out.

The world breaks things,
that much is true—

but people
have always been
very good
at putting each other
back together.

This poem looks toward the future and reminds us that the world ultimately belongs to the next generation, encouraging hope that they will build something kinder than what came before.

What Comes Next

The future
has always belonged
to the children.

Not the generals.
Not the speeches.
Not the maps.

One day
they will inherit
all of this.

Let’s hope
they build something
kinder.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 5mo ago

Sometimes a poem doesn’t answer anything. Sometimes it just sits with the truth a little longer than we usually allow. Either way, here are some new poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #BlueSkyPoetry #SkyPoet

This poem reflects on the quiet forms courage takes in everyday life—persistence without recognition, and the small acts that keep people moving forward.

The Sound of Ordinary Courage

Most courage
doesn’t look like thunder.

It looks like someone
getting up again
without announcing it.

It looks like quiet hands
washing a cup,
paying a bill,
answering a message
when the heart isn’t in it.

No banners.
No applause.

Just the stubborn decision
to keep going.

This poem is about noticing where real wisdom lives—not in noise or success, but in people who slow down, listen carefully, and remain attentive to the world.

A Thought I Had While Walking

The world is loud
about the wrong things.

Success. Speed. Winning.

But the best people I know
move slowly
and listen carefully.

They notice the sky.
They ask real questions.
They remember your name.

If there’s wisdom anywhere,
I think it lives there.

This poem explores how small acts of kindness can become deeply meaningful, especially when someone is struggling and needs even the smallest gesture of care.

The Weight of Small Kindness

A door held open.
A stranger smiling.
Someone saying
“take your time.”

These things seem tiny
until the day
you desperately need one.

Then suddenly
a small kindness
feels like oxygen.

And you realize
how easily
we save each other.

Joshua Walker @bigjosh84.bsky.social · 5mo ago

I think good poetry teaches us something true about ourselves — sometimes before we’re ready for it. Can’t promise that today, but here are some new poems. 💙💙💙 #poetry #blueskypoets #writingcommunity #poems

This poem reflects on pain that doesn’t become wisdom, and the honesty of admitting that survival alone doesn’t always produce growth.

The Things That Didn’t Make Me Better

Some pain doesn’t teach.
It just hurts
and leaves.

Not every scar is a lesson.
Some are just records
of surviving badly.

I don’t trust people
who turn every wound
into wisdom.

Sometimes the bravest thing
is admitting
it never paid off.

This poem is about choosing stillness over speed, and recognizing slowness as a form of discernment rather than defeat.

A Small Defense of Stillness

I don’t move fast anymore.
I watched what speed did
to people I loved.

Stillness isn’t giving up.
It’s choosing
what not to chase.

There are answers
that only show up
when you stop
asking them loudly

This poem explores control and restraint—how a voice can remain intact without becoming louder, and how knowing when to speak is its own strength.

The Voice I Didn’t Lose

They told me I’d soften.
That time would sand me down
into something easier.

It didn’t.
It taught me where
to stand.

My voice didn’t get quieter.
It learned when
to speak.

That’s not silence.
That’s control.

This poem is a quiet offering for people who are exhausted in ways rest doesn’t fix, affirming that endurance itself has value.

For Whoever Needed This Today

If you’re tired
in a way sleep won’t fix,
I see you.

You don’t have to improve today.
You don’t have to explain yourself.

Just staying
counts for more
than you think.