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Calling all poets, storytellers, and artists! We’re now accepting submissions for our Friday Feature, a space devoted to sharing work that resonates, reclaims, and reveals. Whether it’s one raw poem or a quiet piece of prose, if it’s honest, we want to see it. Follow the guidelines in this post to submit your work. Features appear across our social platforms and website. No fee. No gatekeeping. Just the work. ⁠ Submit to: tyler@thistleandthread.org Subject: Friday Feature – [Your Name] #callforsubmissions #openforpoetry #submityourwork #indiepress #smallpress #fridayfeature #thistleandthreadpress #litfeature #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #prosepoetry #hybridwriting #visualpoetry #emergingwriters #digitalpublishing #submissionsopen #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #artfeature #litcall

Welcome to Thistle & Thread Press. We are an independent publisher devoted to raw storytelling, poetic medicine, and the work of tending to grief through language. We publish voices that speak plainly and powerfully, voices that are unafraid to sit with discomfort, with healing, with history. This space will house: • poetry + prose collections • limited-run chapbooks • mythic reimaginings + folklore • meditations on grief, identity, and survival We are still weaving the first threads, but this is where it begins. Follow along as we build something tender, enduring, and true. @thistleandthreadpress thistleandthread.org #independentpress #smallpresspublishing #poetrycommunity #writeyourtruth #literarygrief #healingthroughwords #poetryasritual #mythicwriting #folkpoetics #chapbookpress #rawpoetry #publishingcollective #modernfolklore #writingthroughgrief #griefpoet

untitled | @ritesofnature ~ My lips are cracked not just from winter, but from every word I bit back, every scream I swallowed, every time I whispered please and no one heard. They’re bloodied and bruised, split open from kissing the ground every time I fell short of the woman I was chasing. A ghost of myself that shimmered in the distance, always a little out of reach. I saw her sometimes in mirrors lit by moonlight, in the silence after crying myself dry. Brief flickers, like headlights on a lonely road. She looked like me, only softer. Braver. Whole. I chased her for years. Ran until my feet blistered, soul aching, carrying the weight of “you’re not enough” I carved into my bones. I thought the answer was discipline. Or hunger. Or maybe if I bled for her, she’d finally stay. But then, he touched me like I wasn’t broken. Said my name like it meant something holy. Held me like he was afraid I’d disappear. Because in his eyes, I saw her. The girl I hunted, hated, hoped for. And she smiled. All my life, I thought the answer was to love myself first. But it turns out, sometimes it takes someone else loving you fiercely, wildly, without conditions to make you believe you were worth loving all along. #poem #poetry #love

unraveling | @third_eyety ~ is this an unraveling or am I slowly breaking, fracturing into millions of shards exploding across the night sky in a disappointing meteor shower. shedding the skin of emotion hardening into apathy where every word penned is a dagger pulled from my spine. why am I this way the intensity of everything weight pushing down distorting my minds eye of purpose, of hope, of faith. is this ruin or rebirth this molting of meaning where tears aren’t shed and silence is scripture with grief being my god. the mirror is broken or maybe just the reflection is; a reflection of something I broke long ago. this void consumes, it takes hold, and I fear it’ll end in agony. #poetry #griefpoetry #thistleandthreadpress

how often do we give ourselves away, in ways that feel sacred, to things that are anything but? this is for the ones who bent themselves, who kept bleeding, calling it love and devotion. may you remember: you are the altar, not the sacrifice. — poem by t.tittle @third_eyety #poetry #poem #thistleandthreadpress