Most recently published stories in Poets.
My toes carry the weight of my feet, My feet carry the weight of my ankles. My ankles carry the weight of my calve, My calf carries the weight of my knee,
By Bella Fulk8 years ago in Poets
Four guys having their lunch I’m just in my zone I’m forever alone Whether I’m home Or in my dome I’m just living my best life
By Jovan Lemar8 years ago in Poets
Dim and dark drops of desire, Glitter up in the frothing gyre. I watch the colors combust and implode, I wonder when these salt grains will erode.
Like a fool, I lay awake in bed once more. Thinking, always thinking. About you, about me, about us, about what it is, about what it has been, about what it could be.
By Ana Carol8 years ago in Poets
There is a consequence to a sigh, To which you cannot formulate a counter reply. Sentiment and reason seem to hold little meaning,
Lonely, depressed, angry, ashamed These are the daily feelings I now claim Do you care Do you feel sorry Do you laugh at my pain
By Bubba J Krunkk8 years ago in Poets
The forest was shrouded in moon drops, Golden for the sake of a bird’s blue egg. A crack from a twig or the indigo shell,
I've never felt more loved in this space at this time where I am truly mine. In this space where I enjoy my smile when I accept my quirks
By Umi El8 years ago in Poets
When you hear the word ‘zebra’ Most people think about the animal in Africa About how it runs through the plains Galloping freely
By Michelle Brianna8 years ago in Poets
Sleeping. You looked like a true work of art. Your eyelids twitched as you’d dream Your mouth pulled tight at the ends I played with the ends of your brown curls. Your nose twitched as you’d go to rub it with the back of your hand
By Naütica Tiara8 years ago in Poets
Thinking of you used to fill me with heartache; earth-shattering heartbreak from the daggers that were your words. I was collateral damage,
By Keisha Wilson8 years ago in Poets
electric ghost. You're in the chair again the one that needs to be plugged into the wall I have never seen it turn on, it must be of some use somehow.
By Mira Archuleta8 years ago in Poets
