We’re currently sitting at 17 confirmed members for the anthology… but only 6 have completed their entry fee. Let me be clear so there’s no confusion moving forward: Spots are NOT secured until payment is received. I’m holding a maximum of 20 total spots and we are getting very close. Payment Deadline: This Sunday 4/26/2026 If your entry fee is not submitted by the deadline: 👉 Your spot will be released 👉 It will go to the next committed writer No exceptions. No chasing people down. This isn’t about pressure it’s about commitment. We’re building something real here. A published book. A legacy piece. Something that lives longer than a post. If you’re in… step forward and lock your place. If not… step aside and let someone hungry take it. 🔥 Let’s finish this strong. — Jason I've already spoken to a few of you so disregard this message

Okay, everyone, this book is going to be different from the first one. I want more involvement from everyone. I have come up with a few titles and book covers that tie into the first book. If you like what I have, that's fine we can go with that, but if you have ideas, I want to hear them, so please put whatever ideas you have in the comments. Here are my ideas

To the new members this is the First Anthology published by The Art of Poetry Community. You can purchase your copy on Amazon. Please join us for the Second one we are putting together now

The Moment That Changed Me It didn’t arrive like thunder— no crashing sky, no warning cry, no dramatic unraveling of the world I thought I understood. It came quietly. In the space between two breaths, in the pause after a word I couldn’t take back, in the look I couldn’t unread. Something shifted. Not loud enough for anyone else to notice, but deep enough to rearrange the way my heart held everything. I saw myself— not the version I performed, not the softened reflection I preferred— but the truth, unfiltered, unguarded. And it didn’t ask permission. It showed me the cracks I used to call character, the silence I called strength, the distance I called peace. I wanted to turn away— to gather the old pieces, to pretend nothing had moved— but once you see it, you cannot unsee. So I stood there in the unfamiliar shape of myself, learning how to breathe in a body that no longer fit the past. That was the moment. Not when everything broke— but when I stopped pretending it hadn’t. And in that quiet, aching honesty, I became someone new… not all at once, but enough to never go back.

Love is survival with who knows your worth