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Speakerbox Poems
Speakerbox by Jean Petit-Frere is a bold, emotionally charged collection of poetry that explores the complicated ways people experience love, identity, ambition, injustice, and the need to be heard. Across fifty main poems, accompanied by shorter pieces, Petit-Frere gives voice to thoughts and feelings that often remain hidden beneath everyday interactions. His subjects range from romantic attraction and heartbreak to racial inequality, financial insecurity, social expectations, and the struggle to understand oneself. There’s a restless energy running through the collection, as though the poet is trying to capture his thoughts before they disappear or become something else. The title feels particularly fitting because these poems are meant to be heard as much as read. Petit-Frere approaches poetry as a form of personal expression and public conversation, inviting readers into a world where emotions can be messy, contradictory, funny, and uncomfortable, sometimes within the same poem.
Petit-Frere writes with the rhythm and spontaneity of spoken word, frequently using repetition, wordplay, rhetorical questions, and rapid shifts in thought to create momentum. Poems such as “Medium,” “Words,” and “Music-to-Poetry” examine the relationship between language, performance, and the audience, raising interesting questions about what makes someone listen and whether words can genuinely change the way people think. Elsewhere, poems like “Body Chemistry,” “Eyes,” and “Love Supernatural” capture the overwhelming physical and emotional sensations of attraction. The language can be playful and exaggerated, turning ordinary experiences into elaborate internal conversations. Petit-Frere also makes room for humor through brief poems that deliver observations with an unexpected twist. These shorter pieces provide welcome changes of pace between the longer, more intensely expressive works. His writing has a distinctive personality, and the sense of someone thinking aloud gives the collection much of its character.
Beyond its explorations of romance, Speakerbox engages with larger questions about society, power, and personal worth. “Protest” and “Holdup” confront historical injustice, racism, and the relationship between institutions and the people affected by them. These poems carry a noticeably urgent tone, reflecting the anger, frustration, and determination of voices demanding recognition. “Wholesome” examines control and insecurity within relationships, while “Nobody” explores the desire for recognition and the complicated relationship between success and self-image. Money and social status appear repeatedly throughout the book, especially in poems that question how ambition can influence someone’s values and sense of identity. What makes these subjects interesting is Petit-Frere’s willingness to explore uncomfortable motivations alongside more sympathetic emotions. His speakers can be vulnerable, jealous, passionate, judgmental, or uncertain, and those changes in perspective give the collection a human complexity. Some longer poems revisit their central ideas so frequently that their impact becomes less concentrated, and the occasional awkward phrasing can interrupt the rhythm. Still, the repetition often reinforces the impression of a mind working through feelings in real time.
What resonated with me most was the book’s fascination with the distance between what people feel, what they say, and what others actually understand. That concern connects many of the book’s seemingly different subjects, from romantic misunderstandings to public protest and the pressures of earning a living through creative work. Petit-Frere repeatedly returns to the idea that being seen and being understood are two different experiences, and his poems examine the emotional consequences of that divide. The collection’s movement between humor, desire, social criticism, and introspection gives it an unpredictable rhythm that reflects the variety of human experience. There’s also an interesting tension between the poet’s desire for an audience and his concern about the compromises that come with recognition. Readers who enjoy spoken-word poetry, emotionally expressive writing, and reflections on contemporary life will find plenty to engage with here. Speakerbox feels personal, outspoken, and full of questions worth considering, offering a revealing look at how one poet uses language to make sense of himself and the world around him.
Pages: 348 | ASIN : B0FR2RS7SX
Literary Titan Gold Book Award: Poetry
The Literary Titan Book Award recognizes poets who demonstrate exceptional artistry and proficiency and push the boundaries of language and expression. The recipients are poets who excel in their technical skills and evoke deep emotional responses, challenge thoughts, and illuminate new perspectives through their work. The award honors those who contribute to the literary landscape with their unique voices and powerful words.
Award Recipients
Visit the Literary Titan Book Awards page to see award information.
Places of Origin
Rebecca Elegant’s Places of Origin is a thoughtful and personal poetry collection about the experiences that shape us, the people who leave their marks on our lives, and the unexpected ways we find our footing in an uncertain world. Drawing from family relationships, friendships, motherhood, nature, and the upheaval of the pandemic, Elegant explores what it means to keep growing through change. In her introduction, she describes how her father’s habit of sitting quietly with his thoughts each morning became her own ritual, eventually giving rise to these poems. That sense of quiet reflection runs throughout the collection. Many of the poems grow out of seemingly ordinary experiences, whether it’s a morning run, a conversation with a friend, or an observation about the natural world. Elegant has a gift for recognizing the emotional significance of these moments and connecting them to larger questions about love, loss, resilience, and belonging. There’s a genuine curiosity behind her writing, a desire to understand how we become the people we are and how our connections to others help us along the way.
Nature plays a central role in Places of Origin, providing both beautiful imagery and a way of making sense of human experience. Trees, flowers, birds, oceans, and changing seasons appear throughout the collection, often reflecting the emotional lives of the people Elegant writes about. In “A Credo,” she considers how giant sequoia seeds need intense heat to open, using that natural process to explore transformation and the possibility of growth through hardship. “Unlikely Places” similarly examines how life persists in unexpected circumstances, connecting plants growing in difficult environments with the experiences of families navigating the pandemic. These connections feel especially meaningful because Elegant grounds them in recognizable details. Her observations about the natural world carry a sense of wonder, and her recurring attention to cycles of growth, destruction, and renewal gives the collection a reassuring continuity. The photographs by Laila Rezai, whose collaboration helped inspire the book, also contribute to its relationship with the physical world.
Some of the collection’s most affecting poems focus on relationships and the complicated emotions that accompany loving other people. Elegant writes about her children, husband, mother, sister, and friends with an openness that makes these poems feel like conversations we’ve been invited to overhear. “Family Photo” captures the distance between what a family photograph shows and the complicated reality of the people gathered within it. “Annotation” uses the experience of reading and the image of a daughter swimming farther from her mother to explore the changing relationship between generations. There’s tenderness in these pieces, along with an awareness that loving someone often involves accepting change. Elegant also brings a welcome touch of humor to her observations. In “Slave To Stuff,” a family camping trip becomes an amusing examination of how much we carry with us, both physically and emotionally. These lighter moments complement the collection’s more contemplative passages and give the writing a distinctly human quality.
What makes Places of Origin especially engaging is Elegant’s ability to move between intimate personal experiences and shared concerns without losing her conversational voice. Poems addressing wildfires, gun violence, isolation, and collective grief sit alongside celebrations of dancing, friendship, laughter, and everyday beauty. Her language is generally accessible, and her frequent use of questions invites readers to consider their own experiences alongside hers. At times, she states a poem’s central idea quite explicitly, giving certain pieces the feeling of a personal meditation or a heartfelt conversation. That directness is an important part of the collection’s character. These are poems written by someone who pays attention to the world and wants to share what she’s discovered. Throughout the book, Elegant returns to the idea that our lives are constantly changing, shaped by the places we inhabit, the people we love, and the experiences we carry forward. Places of Origin is a warm, compassionate collection that encourages readers to notice the extraordinary emotional richness of ordinary life and appreciate the connections that help us find our place in it.
Pages: 84 | ASIN : B0HM5C2PQR
First Draft of a Man
Connor Lynch’s First Draft of a Man is a compact poetry collection about the uncomfortable business of growing into yourself. Its concerns are personal and familiar: loneliness, depression, grief, romantic disappointment, and the pressure to feel like a functioning adult. What gives them character is the speaker’s voice, which can be prickly, funny, embarrassed, and painfully candid within a few lines. There’s a strong sense of someone thinking aloud, catching himself putting on a performance, then trying again with a little more honesty. The title suits that ongoing process of revision. Being a man becomes a question the poems keep examining through ordinary experiences, private doubts, and the habits people develop to get through the day.
Lynch is especially good at finding physical details that give an emotion somewhere to live. A pristine notebook becomes intimidating; a school woodworking lesson offers a way to think about loneliness; the smell of shampoo carries an uncomfortable emotional charge. These images make the collection feel close enough to touch. Its Irish settings also give the writing a specific texture, with flats, buses, pubs, and familiar shopping trips forming the backdrop to the speaker’s restless thoughts. I particularly liked the attention to the awkward coexistence of emotional distress and daily routine. You can be worrying about whether someone will message you back while still needing to buy groceries. Lynch understands how much of a person’s inner life happens during those apparently uneventful stretches.
The humour deserves credit, too. Some of the funniest moments come from the speaker noticing his own defences, including the impulse to turn discomfort into a clever line. That awareness gives the writing personality and makes its more exposed moments feel earned. The collection uses short lines, generous space, occasional rhyme, and experiments with repetition, including a sestina built around self-esteem. Its recurring images of damage, confinement, and repair create continuity, although their accumulation can feel crowded. The strongest writing trusts a concrete scene or an unexpected comparison to carry the feeling. Those moments have a precision that makes you want to pause before moving on.
I’d recommend First Draft of a Man to readers who enjoy personal poetry with everyday speech, dark humour, and a willingness to admit socially awkward feelings. People negotiating the unsettled stretch of adulthood, especially questions about masculinity, intimacy, and self-worth, will likely find plenty to recognise. It could also suit someone starting to explore contemporary poetry: the situations are easy to enter, while the images offer reasons to linger and reread. Its frequent profanity and sustained attention to difficult emotions are central to its temperament. For me, its appeal lies in the company of a voice that can be exasperating, perceptive, tender, and funny, sometimes all at once. I’d read it a few poems at a time, giving its sharper images space to settle.
Pages: 55 | ASIN: B0H18FRH6D
Identities and Experiences
I Was, Am, Will Be is a collection of poetry, prose, dramatic pieces, letters, and visual art that reflects on identity, loss, love, race, mental health, family, and the meaning of creative expression. Your work draws from Black literary traditions, hip-hop, pop culture, teaching, and personal experience. How do these influences interact in your creative voice?
Imagine a nice-looking sponge, absorbing every nutrient and vitamin from each food morsel touched. The influences gained throughout the human experience are similar in that we absorb the influences from the world on a daily basis. In my case, I grew up in Oakland, and I don’t leave that voice at the door when I write. Langston Hughes is a major influence, especially the way he brings music into language. Then there’s Too Short, Keak da Sneak, E-40, and the cadence and humor of Bay Area hip-hop. Albert Camus gets me thinking about purpose, and what we do with the life we’ve been given. I like letting all of that sit together, even when it seems like an odd combination.
Spoken-Word, or performance poetry, helped me figure out what that mixture sounded like out loud. I was on the poetry slam team at Cal State Long Beach and later spent a lot of time competing around the Bay. You learn a lot about a line when you have to stand in front of strangers and say it. I brought that attention to sound into Broken Pencils, even though it’s a novel. Studying in Greece with George Crane also taught me to cut words I didn’t need. I still get attached to a line that probably needs to go.
As an English teacher in Oakland by day, I’m always thinking about how to make writing matter to somebody who didn’t ask to read it. I ask students to connect what we’re reading to their own identities and experiences. That keeps me thinking about the person on the other side of the page. Hosting my bi-weekly Get-Hype Open-Mic series at Discover Community Cafe in West Oakland keeps me listening, too. There are so many ways to tell a story, and I get to hear people finding theirs.
Now I’m carrying that experimentation into music and film for I Was, Am, Will Be, including the short film Affirmations (Why Write). A beat changes how I deliver a poem. A pause, an image, even the smallest sound bite, can hold something I might otherwise explain in another line. I’m still learning those forms, so give me grace. I’m enjoying being a beginner at something again.
Your writing moves quickly between humor, vulnerability, cultural commentary, and grief. How do you decide when humor belongs in an emotionally difficult piece?
Humor, jokes, and playing the dozens are woven into nearly everything I write. Comedy is also one of the ways I cope. I often make a joke before I’m ready to say what’s actually bothering me. Sometimes it helps me get through the moment, yet sometimes I’m avoiding something. So when humor shows up in my writing, I pay attention to what the character is doing with it. In “Good Sunday,” Jonah moves through a day that can look pretty carefree from the outside, but his past keeps interrupting him. He makes witty observations, including about people dealing with some of the same emotional stress he carries. The joke can be funny and still show how uncomfortable he is with himself.
Grief has strange timing. You can be laughing and then remember somebody who should be there laughing with you. That feels close to life as I know it. I don’t want every difficult piece to announce its seriousness from the first line and stay there. When I revise, I ask whether the humor helps us understand Jonah or keeps us too far away from what he’s feeling. If I’ve let a joke cover up something the reader needs to sit with, I give that feeling more room.
What do you hope readers who have experienced trauma, grief, or mental-health struggles see in your work?
I hope that readers take away a better sense of hope and understanding that we are beyond our pain. Our lives are not defined by damage. In spite of loss, we still have a future. I started writing poetry after losing my best friend in a car accident when I was thirteen. I didn’t have the language for everything I was feeling, and writing gave me somewhere to put it. I’ve also had to work through the loss of my father and my own struggles with bipolar disorder. I’ve written about purpose because there have been times when I had a hard time finding my own.
Broken Pencils took fifteen years to reach publication. There were rejections, long stretches when I put the manuscript away, and times when grief made it difficult to care about the dream. Looking back, I’m grateful I returned to it. In I Was, Am, Will Be, Jonah is twenty-five and traveling through Europe, carrying questions about identity, love, and loss into unfamiliar places. That grew out of my own time abroad. Distance can change your perspective, but the past still comes with you.
I’m proud of the books and the work I’m doing now, and I still have days when taking care of myself has to come first. Therapy and the people close to me have helped me get here. I hope somebody reading can feel less ashamed of needing that support, or feel that their own story is worth telling. We are what remains from damage, and what remains still deserves a chance.
Author Links: GoodReads | Amazon
Leaving behind the familiar confines of America, Jonah embarks on a three-month journey through Spain, Greece, France, and Amsterdam. As Jonah immerses himself in the rich European landscapes and cultures, will he confront the ghosts of his past or succumb to the uncertainties of his future?
Art Is For The Creator
All the Things I Want to Tell You transforms the emotional intensity of adolescence into poetry that explores what it means to feel deeply in a complicated world. What inspired you to begin writing poetry, and how did that passion develop into this collection?
In all honesty, I have no idea why I began writing poetry. I pretty much just sat down at my dining room table one day and started a journal entry that somehow became a poem. After that, I continued writing because I had a few people tell me that my poetry was good and I realized I enjoyed writing it. It became a collection by accident, really. My publisher, Nick, happens to be a long-time friend of the family, so when my mom mentioned to him that I’d begun writing, he asked to see it and I sent some stuff over. He liked it a lot and asked if I’d be willing to work with him to publish my writing and of course I said yes, and here we are!
What have you learned about accepting contradictions within yourself, such as feeling confident and uncertain at the same time?
I’ve learned that it isn’t necessarily bad to feel multiple or even opposing feelings toward someone or something. Emotions are complex and often intense, and that’s okay; they’re part of what makes us human. Some of us feel things more deeply than others, or at least are able to better show or communicate their feelings, but I think I can safely assume we’ve all had mixed emotions about something at one time or another. Labeling feelings as either good or bad doesn’t get me anywhere. Mostly I just try to be aware of when I’m feeling negatively about an emotion and do my best not to feel guilty or think of my emotions as wrong in any way. It’s hard, but I’m getting better at it.
How can poetry and other creative outlets help encourage empathy and more open conversations about mental health?
If people choose to share their poetry or other art, it can be helpful for others to see that they aren’t alone in their struggles. Often, when people have depression or other mental illnesses, they feel like they are the only ones experiencing that type of hardship and it gets very isolating. Just being able to see themselves in someone else can be helpful. Art is also a great way to help people who don’t have mental health issues understand what it’s like for those who do. There have been multiple times when I’ve shown a poem to one of my parents and they’ve been like wow, I had no idea that was true for you or that was what you were dealing with and they’ve been better able to support me because of the conversations my poetry has started.
What advice would you give teenagers who want to express themselves creatively but feel hesitant about sharing their work?
First of all, you don’t have to share anything! Art is for the creator, not the audience, and you should never be pressured into showing off something that you don’t feel comfortable sharing. If you do want to show someone, start with someone you know will react well to it. For me, that was my mom and a close friend. They were both people that I had a lot of deep conversations with, and as a result, they already knew me very well. I knew that if they liked my writing, they wouldn’t be shy about complimenting it, and if they didn’t, that they would say so kindly. From there, I slowly expanded that circle of people I shared my work with until I’d had enough people tell me that my writing was good that I could mostly ignore the people who inevitably disagreed. Also keep in mind that it is okay if someone doesn’t like your art—not everyone will, and that’s okay. Again, your art should be made because you enjoyed creating it, not because you wanted others to like it.
Author Links: GoodReads | X | Facebook | Website
Navigate the Absurdity
Drifts blends cinematic street photography, poetry, and candid reflections from cities around the world, finding beauty, humor, and meaning in the details most people overlook. What does the title Drifts represent about your approach to photography, writing, and observing the world?
It’s about allowing yourself to feel wonder in the wander. Letting my feet and my mind drift in the moment allows me to connect to myself on a deeper level.
What qualities in a place, object, or everyday moment tend to capture your attention?
I’m attracted to juxtaposition. Authenticity. The timeless. The absurd. Graffiti art in the historic Gothic Quarter of Barcelona. My GPS losing my location and leading me down random back alleys where I find the most delicious ramen.
What have your travels taught you about the similarities and differences in how people experience everyday life?
Everyone is seeking peace of mind. Yet only a few stop to find it. The daily struggle is real for everyone, but the happiest people I’ve encountered are the ones who choose to navigate the absurdity with a sense of humor and adventure. In Venice, there was a woman who seemed unhappy as she spoke of her city like a husband who, over the years, had forgotten how beautiful his wife was. Then, once in Mexico, I spoke with an Indigenous woman, with the most genuine smile, hard at work making corn tortillas by hand in the summer heat. Best tortillas I ever had.
How do you think photography and poetry can encourage people to become more observant and thoughtful about the world around them?
They can train the eye and the soul. A photograph can be a reminder to look up; a poem to look inward.
Author Links: GoodReads | Website | Amazon
Aaron Andreu now invites us to linger in the spaces between moments-to see, to feel what drifts and what remains, and to discover the rhythm hidden in everyday life.
Enjoying the Process
Staring at a Blank Page: 30 Days of Poetry and Other Musings transforms teaching, family, faith, failure, friendship, and ordinary moments into a reflective collection that invites readers to discover their own reasons to write. How did committing to daily writing change your relationship with creativity?
My relationship with creativity changed in that I realized I didn’t have to wait on that period when I was in the flow to begin writing.
When I wrote my first poetry book, I would usually write when I ‘got the inspiration’. Having a full – time job and many commitments, I needed a more sustainable way to nurture my creativity. I found it in this thirty-day challenge.
The challenge gave me the discipline, and within the discipline, I would consciously schedule writing time. Having a system I could fall back on made me comfortable enough to start experimenting with themes, form, and style.
Many of the pieces begin with seemingly ordinary experiences. What helps you recognize when an everyday moment contains the seed of a poem?
Throughout the challenge, I made sure to keep a mental record of any interesting thing that happened during the day. I also wanted to enjoy the process, so I thought of fun, quirky, or animated moments, something someone said, or how I felt during a particular situation. At the end of the day, when I sat down to write, I tried to capture those feelings and emotions.
Your work frequently considers how people see themselves and how others see them. Why is identity an important theme for you?
Living and working in another culture brings identity to the fore. My identity is questioned or is in question daily. I am always amazed at how quickly we form an opinion of someone’s identity based on a few outward features. As a writer, it is a dynamic topic that lends itself to deeper exploration. It’s like peeling the layers off an onion one layer at a time.
How would you recommend readers experience the collection: straight through, one entry each day, or simply opening it when they need reflection or inspiration?
It can be experienced in both ways.
If the reader is interested in developing a daily creative and journaling practice, then making the commitment to reading and answering the daily prompts will inspire more writing/Journaling. It is a cathartic process that deserves becoming a daily habit.
The second way of just opening it when they need reflection or inspiration also works, especially for busy moms, teachers, entrepreneurs, or anyone needing a new perspective or energy boost on the go.
It is suitable for both morning and night meditation. Great insights can be gained if the reader is looking to engage with life’s simple moments and garner an even deeper connection within themselves.
Author Links: Instagram | Facebook – Author | Facebook – Poetry | Substack | Linkt.ree | Linkedin | Website
Through evocative poetry and insightful musings, Thompson explores the rich tapestry of daily life and the deeper truths it reveals. From the challenge of overcoming procrastination to the wisdom found in a simple smile, the collection invites readers to explore themes of change, identity, connection, and resilience. This book is a testament to the fertile ground of the human mind and the transformative power of daily reflection and creative expression.
