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Welcome to pathetic.org , a community for poets and poetry enthusiasts alike. To navigate the site, simply move your mouse over the main categories above to activate menu options. pathetic.org is a free resource for poets to maintain poetry libraries and to publish their works, virtually. If you're looking for a community with a wide variety of poetic styles and voices, you've found the right place. Simply browse through the Poetry Center menu above to find the best in modern amateur poetry.

Also be sure to signup for our Poem of the Day emailed directly to your inbox, by clicking Here.

Community News

Important Update: Transition from pathetic.org to eMuse.org - 03/16/2025
by Gavin M Roy

After years of intermittent development, eMuse is almost ready to launch. As part of this transition, pathetic.org will be shutdown and will redirect to eMuse.org.
What you need to know:

* No accounts will be automatically created
* No content will be automatically transferred
* When creating your new eMuse account, you'll have the option to import your data from pathetic.org

We look forward to welcoming you to the new platform.

Hello, Survivors of 2020! - 01/03/2021
by V. Blake

Please check my post out in the General forum when you have a moment. Thanks!

Stay Healthy - 03/18/2020
by V. Blake

Hope you and yours are well.

A Congratulations to Leonard M Hawkes - 03/27/2019
by V. Blake

..who just published his first volume of poetry! Entitled Leaves from my Box Elder, it comes just in time for the 150th anniversary of the driving of the Golden Spike.

So, like the title says--congrats, Leonard!

Older News
Poem of the Day for 06/20/26

Intoxication
by Lisa Marie Brodsky



“Dear girl, you began as a liquid.
Your mother could not unthink you.”
-- Paula McLain, “Mercy”

She drinks to get drunk
to lose herself in my stone walls.
Her voice echoes in my head
while I tell her –
Stop trying.
Oh mother, stop resisting the phases of the moon.

She writes my future on the steamy shower doors
which I smear my face across, mumbling,
Who are you if you are not
me mixed with hospital gowns
and nineteen Xanax?

She cannot handle herself while intoxicated.
She needs an arm to help her walk. She gets bleary-
eyed and soul-conscious.
In her blurred mind, our house is the castle
she never built. I am a braided maiden
stuck in a tower.
She unlocks my door and drinks
the vile beside my bed.
I love you, she says,
I think about you day and night
but will not turn inside-out
to release you.

11/25/2004

Visit Lisa Marie Brodsky's Library

Intoxication Copyright © 2026

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