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𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡— a quiet invocation for all who bleed, endure, and are unseen. a small body of love for 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵, keeper of the heart and womb. #motherwort #herbalwisdom #plantmedicine #healingplants #herbalpoetry #poetryandplants #femininehealing #wombwisdom #poetrycommunity #writersofinstagram #poetryofinsta #indiepoetry #naturepoetry #spiritualpoetry #thistleandthreadpress #holistichealing #herbalism #amverse #griefpoetry #womenspoetry #healingwords #plantspiritmedicine #botanicalpoetry #emotionalhealing #modernpoet #poetsofinstagram

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒: 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐈 A Saturday prompt series by Thistle & Thread Press. For the pages that haven’t been written yet. For the words still buried beneath the surface. These three prompts are seeds—small, unfinished, and seeking to take root deep within the soil of your mind. You don’t have to bloom today. Even stillness belongs in the garden. Save this post. Return to it. Let something unravel. Let something grow. Which prompt speaks to you? Tag us @thistleandthreadpress or use #LooseThreads to share your writing. #LooseThreads #WritingPrompts #PoetryPrompts #NatureWriting #GriefWriting #HealingThroughWriting #ThistleAndThreadPress #PoetryCommunity #WritersOfInstagram #IndiePress #PoetrySupport #MetaphorMagic #CreativeUnblocking #SaturdayWriting #PoetsOfIG #NatureAsMetaphor #EmotionalCraft #WritingThroughGrief

Friday Feature | 𝐈𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐩𝐲𝐱 The Price For His Peace — Kumbaya, Kumbaya, Kumbaya, Silence your children rehearse cries, Their hollow wails hold no truth for my once-breathing brother, For in life’s cruel theater he played the phantom in their story, A long forgotten soul who was never loved. And yet, they spill torrents of sorrows while he rest, They Lay their final blooms of apology, Of which suffocate his eternal rest, But tell me this, Where was this grace when breath wove through his embattled lungs? They left him ‘lone in the cavern of solitude, Wailing desperately and wild, Leaving him to hear his own echoes into the void, And with stone-hard stares, Casting judgement for laying his soul bare. And yet, you dare to utter in my ears with gentle whispers about peace?! Where was his peace when he asked for it? Yet, his request fade beneath the sun as the gaze of indifference slander him. Where was the kindness that eluded him like a cruel mirage? How many scars and battle must he face before he earns his halo? He deserved celestial tapestries of starlight, not an empty, starless void, He was meant for paradise, not a hell he called his dwelling, No matter how fiercely he fought, your hearts offered no sanctuary. Yet, you mouth platitudes of peace to me, Keep your silken lies, He thirsted for them, I do not. Yet it was that same thirst that doused his inner light, Radiant and majestic, And yet, it was their relentless storms of scorn that broke his desire to want paradise. Cold and emptied is when the torrent of regret stream through your children’s mask, Petals lay upon his vessel, All what is done today could been given during his days of sunlight. All he sought was a sliver of peace, Yet, in seeking he surrendered his very soul, To a world unabashed in hurling stones at each sunrise he dared to believe in. — A Vo;ce for the Vo;celess – debut collection Tea & Poetry – podcast launching soon Featured in Dead On A Doorstep & Black Noise Based in Connecticut TikTok: @teaandpoetry28 #thistleandthreadpress #fridayfeature #icaruslapyx

tomorrow, we feature a voice worth pausing for. until then, a line to sit with— “𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.” friday features. every week. one voice. one piece. follow @thistleandthreadpress and submit today your voice may be next. #fridayfeature #poetryteaser #poetrycommunity #indiepress #poetryquote #thistleandthreadpress #smallpresslove

𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. I redesigned the cover for 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 more than I rewrote the poems within it. Each version brought something new—but most took me further from what I actually wanted. Some looked too modern. Some too ornate. Some lacked softness like the poems held. Some blurred out when blown up full-scale. There was a point I nearly threw in the towel and hired someone to do this for me. I could not get the formatting right no matter what. After hitting a point with the design, finally something clicked. It wasn’t finished yet, but it had life in it. This is a glimpse behind the curtain. You experience the final product, the culmination of hours spent in front of a screen measuring, typing, dragging & dropping—a work that has taught me patience and how much time goes into making something feel simple. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. Link in bio. Paperback on Amazon. #BehindTheScenes #CoverDesign #IndieAuthorLife #BookDesignProcess #PoetryBook #flowersinthegarden #ThistleAndThreadPress #CreativeProcess #VisualStorytelling #BTS #DesignEvolution #PoetryCommunity #SelfPublishedAuthor #IndiePublishing #WritersOfInstagram #BookLaunch

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 is now available in paperback on Amazon worldwide. a visceral collection of poetry and prose told in the voice of different flowers such as poppy, chamomile, nettle, and more. These voices are grief-stricken, mythic, and unflinching. They are the roots we hide. The petals we offer. The pain we make into something that blooms beautifully. Available now: bit.ly/flowersinthegarden copies coming soon to thistleandthread.org #poetrybook #indiepoetry #griefpoetry #herbalism #flowermagic #smallpresspublishing #poetryofinstagram #booklaunch #poetrycommunity #visceralwriting #thistleandthreadpress

some plants aren’t meant to be soft. this is yarrow— the one that stops the bleeding. a spoken word excerpt from 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯, releasing this coming Monday, July 7 from thistle & thread press. #spokenwordpoetry #poetryreels #poetryvideo #poetsofinstagram #indiepoet #modernpoetry #instapoet #yarrow #plantfolklore #herbalpoetry #botanicalpoetry #poetryandplants #naturepoetry #healingplants #flowersinthegarden #thistleandthreadpress #indiepress #chapbookrelease

and i. not all holidays feel like celebration. some are a day to grieve, to rest, to step away. however you spend this holiday, wherever you are; may there be breath, gentleness, and a safe return. thistle & thread will resume our content schedule after the holiday. #july4th #independenceday #slowliving #intentionalrest #griefandhealing #thistleandthread #quietrevolution #resistancerooted #folkpoetry #modernritual

gentle doesn’t mean untouched. she has been steeped in sorrow, softened by fire. and still, she holds out her sweetness. Some flowers bloom through the storm. chamomile teaches us how. She soothes without erasing. She softens without forgetting. A flower for the restless. A poem for the ones learning to sleep again. flowers in the garden a poetic chapbook of personified medicinal blooms. releasing July 7 on Amazon. #flowersinthegarden #thistleandthreadpress #chamomile #poetry #excerpt #poetryexcerpt #herbalpoetry #indiepoetry #griefpoetry #plantmagic #gentlepower #newpoetryrelease

Friday Feature: Sabrina Krejci - @ritesofnature “a life I never had” There is a version of me that runs barefoot through tall grass, laughing, shoulders loose, sun-warmed and untouched by the weight I wake with every morning. She lives somewhere I can’t touch where no one raised their voice in rage, where love wasn’t conditional, where doors didn’t slam and silence wasn’t punishment. She sits at long tables, surrounded by hands that reach without wounding, voices that soften before they break. She is held. And I I stand outside glass with my forehead to it and watch her smile, feel a hollow throb in my chest where something should have grown. There are memories I don’t have that still ache like bruises: a birthday where someone showed up, a body that was touched with tenderness, a home where I was safe to speak, to weep, to want. I mourn her like a death that never had the dignity of burial. I mourn her like a motherless child aching for arms she never knew. The grief has no grave, just this endless throb in the quiet hours when no one is watching. And no matter how far I get, how much I heal, there is always a corner of my heart still pressed to that window, watching her dance in the golden light of the life I never had. —Sabrina Krejci About the Author: Sabrina Krejci is a poet and practitioner devoted to nature and the Great Mother. She crafts heartfelt, soul-deep poetry and devotional prayers rooted in healing and reverence. Based in central Wisconsin, she lives with her partner and their dog Jet, tending the land, hiking, photographing, and honoring what is sacred in all things. #FridayFeature #ThistleAndThreadPress #IndiePoet #PoetryOfHealing #GriefPoetry #DevotionalWriting #PoetsOfInstagram #NatureAsSacred #RitesOfNature #PoetryCommunity #SmallPressPublishing #PoetryFeature #EmergingPoets #HealingThroughWords

“i refuse to be a posthumous apology in a broken system’s file cabinet.” —excerpt from The Wolf’s Bane: Revisited by @third_eyety Every year, more than 700,000 people die by suicide. Many are failed by the very systems meant to protect them. This poem is for every soul who was almost a statistic, for every one of us who clawed our way back and said: you will not bury me quietly. The Wolf’s Bane: Revisited COMING SOON on Amazon + signed editions at thistleandthread.org #TheWolfsBaneRevisited #PoetryOfSurvival #MentalHealthMatters #SuicideAwareness #IndiePoet #TraumaWriting #PostTraumaticGrowth #PoetsOfInstagram #PoetryThatHeals #YouAreNotAlone

out of sight|out of mind | @third_eyety splinter apart my ribs, gouge out my eyes with your icy gaze piercing through me down to the core exposing the vile being that lurks beneath half dead half alive an abomination yet a beautiful creation stitched together barely breathing but alive. veins hum in silence a quiet defiance in every fractured bone wearing ruin as a crown dripping with rust and regret a monument to the war I lost the war between what was alive and what refuses to die. a ghost in my skin, a whisper between heartbeats, dancing on the edge of oblivion still standing still splitting open for the light. #poetry #poetsofinstagram #darkpoetry #griefpoetry #sadpoetry #emotionalpoetry #existentialpoetry #gothicpoetry #mentalhealthpoetry #ashandbone #ghostsofthepage #soulscribbles #hauntingwords #inkandshadows #poetrycommunity #poetrylovers #writersofinstagram #creativewriting #spokenwordpoetry #instapoet #moodyaesthetic #blackandwhitepoetry #fridayfeature #thistleandthreadpress #indiepoets #undiscoveredvoices #painintopoetry #etherealpoetry #poetrysupport #deadwords

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