Original Poems Rooted in Thought, Written in Stillness.
These are not poems written to fill space. They are original in the truest sense, drawn from silence, sharpened by reflection, and left to ferment before finding a page.
Welcome to a collection of original poems shaped by solitude and made whole by language. Each piece is an echo of a moment: a gesture toward meaning, a resistance to noise.
Whether you come here often or have stumbled in uninvited—please stay. There’s something in this quiet for you too.
Silent Hands
A poem about the quiet end of a lifelong craft. For anyone who’s felt the shift from active creation to stillness, with love for what remains.
She wove her threads until her hands gave way,
The universe, relentless, whispered “It’s enough.”
But passion doesn’t yield to what our bodies say,
It lives in stitches, speaks through pain, through rough.
The Ghost in the Poem
A reflective poem on creativity, authenticity, and AI’s quiet influence. For poets and writers questioning what it means to truly own the words they write.
The algorithm wants me to believe,
That feeding AI my scattered verse,
Will birth a poet, but it will deceive,
For prompts alone make poetry rehearse.
Backspace
A poem about false memory, old habits, and the quiet return to paths once left behind. For anyone unsure whether they chose their life or circled back to it.
I thought I typed on keys that clacked and rang,
But truth was tucked beneath my faulty thread—
It wasn’t typing first, it was meringue.
Ambient Exit
A modern identity poem about boredom, self-doubt, and leaving things unfinished. For anyone who keeps abandoning something before it has the chance to become real.
They say I’m sitting, still and sweet,
A doll in hand, no shoes on feet.
But I remember leaving fast:
Was it boredom? Or, did joy not last?
Rigid Roads
A reflective poem on childhood structure, inherited routines, and the slow return to joy through unlearning. For anyone who’s ever outgrown the rulebook.
My father liked a well-planned week
With mornings made to run on time.
We walked the same route, cheek to cheek,
And never questioned if it rhymed.
Ode to Tumblr
A reflective poem about identity, body image, and digital belonging. Through the lens of Tumblr’s chaotic sanctuary, it explores the power of being strange, unliked, and still standing—a tribute to misfits, memory, and the taste of truth.
Nothing tastes as good as truth feels,
and truth is, I’m a little bit weird.
Like Tumblr at midnight, still spinning,
still serving the forgotten, the feared.
The Lap of Night
A haunting, dreamlike poem about identity, grief and the quiet dissolution of old selves. Through blurred memory and nocturnal release, it explores what it means to let go without breaking, without noise, and without needing to ask.
Disjointed,
like a dream mid-sentence—
I write
where memory frays at the edge.
Poem About Grief and Death
A raw, reflective poem about grief, alcohol, and the slow path to healing. Written in the wake of loss, it explores how we numb, cope, and eventually surface—changed, still hurting, but held by something steady.
Back when my mom gave up the fight,
My world collapsed without a sound.
The days grew darker than the night,
And grief was all that wrapped around.
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Why Original Poems Matter
Poetry is not performance.
It is precision.
Intimacy. Study.
With algorithmic verse overflowing in the digital sphere, original poems act as counterweights.
They are not regurgitated stances, nor are they mood board captions that are stretched too thin, They hold intention, form, lineation & subtext.
Through continuous study and research, I explore the traditional forms of poetry (odes, elegies, free verse) with a deliberate deviation, each poem beginning in structure but grows toward rupture.
About the Poet
My name is Nadia Polydorou. I’m the creator and writer of all you see on this page―a personal dedication to my everyday life through poems.
I’m based in Cyprus, but most likely, you’ll find me behind the screens and notebooks of my scribbles - professionally, personally or otherwise.
Want More Like This?
These original poems begin as part of a daily writing practise. Just 30 minutes of journaling each morning, before the world interrupts.
If you’d like to read more of the work as it unfolds, and occasionally receive a quiet prompt or reflection, you’re welcome to join The Quiet Circle, a newsletter sent only when something feels worth sharing.
Join The Quiet Below Circle over at SubStack.
A space where poetry, personal essays, and reflective writing explore the delicate intersections of loss, healing and the quiet strength of human resilience.
