Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Life on Pyroearth
Relationships , struggle , heartache , the never-ending climatic battle through the various terrains of life: Rocky and all , all of us yearning to hold or posses that one true prize that signifies our passion and determination in all its various forms that keep us to strive for what (in our minds) can keep our passionate flames burning bright, here on pyroearth
By Brendan Huff8 years ago in Poets
Emotional Flurry (Shaken, Not Stirred)
What does it mean to feel? is it a blessing? is it a curse? feel too much? feel too little? emotion given deserves emotion returned, but what do you feel when life throws a lesson that makes you believe that special emotions get in the way, do you shut down and dare never to take a chance again...? Or do you fade into the background until opportunity shines its light on a heart consumed by pain and darkness...does such a human being exist....
By Brendan Huff8 years ago in Poets
Skeletons
Turn on the light and greet the skeletons in your closet. Make sure your grip is firm and confident for they've been sizing you up; even when they hang dormant like the styles of your eighth grade year. Pretending it never happened doesn't erase it from existence, and acting as if it does not matter doesn't exempt you from acceptance. I mean, you are here, and now the baggage you carry doesn't lighten so you might as well bear the burden with tone's eyes. Pick up life and learn to let go of the dead weight cancer that killed your brother. That hushed your mother. That buckled your father's knees after raised hand "Si, se puede! (Yes, we can)" stand. The poison that ran through his veins stops at your bloodline. You've been given nothing but time wasted on another who gave no love only themselves. Go ahead, curse and cry into open air blaming others for your own thousand mile stairway to little hell. Forgiven by everyone except those same eyes that threw in the towel at the chance of new health. Stay buried and blistered like the forgotten sister, who's been abused similar to mother figure. The sound of being silenced like fitted shoes given by father figure. This vicious cyclone that throws everything around except respect reflects through a jagged mirror that does cut. New scars on skin but not on mine. Old scars off skin but only in mind. This condemning witch hunt only stopped when the sight of yourself being burned at the stake. Don't be fooled by the dead weight hate to believe this was done by mistake. Life will eventually lead back to this soft soil, deep grave that holds your forgotten name. You haven't been led astray, just have faith in being raised by that newfound Love's hand. Being dusted off by the same hand to behold mind's promised land. You've been made anew to create this path you choose; striding through death's valley of gossip and secular news. Nothing has changed, only you. Nothing is the same, only you. This is called an elevated view. Follow the breadcrumbs back to the devil's trap singing a sweeter tune than you were given to use. Being a moving mountain with a lighthouse that's no longer striped black and blue bellowing "give me your tired, your poor huddled masses" all the while nurturing the conquering Love that has been anticipated in foretold lore. Finally snatching back the cat's tongue with loose lips building ships designed to fair seas we skilled sailors have seen. Collectively deciding our destiny and it all starts by turning on the light. Greeting your skeletons. Open the door Love is waiting. Fall head over heels into yourself and catch this new, refreshing breath with true intent to figure out the rest.
By Matthew Hernandez8 years ago in Poets
Three Expression Tips For New Poets
I want to start this post off with the disclaimer that in no way am I trying to teach people how to write poetry. Systematic, routine poetry is not poetry at all, and therefore, genuine poetry cannot be taught. However, there are some things that I have picked up over the years that help me better express myself in my writing, things that allow me to say things that I never thought I would be able to say or express ideas that I never thought I would be able to depict.
By Davina Zacharias8 years ago in Poets
