Most recently published stories in Poets.
You were sixteen, I was a six pound baby I loved you the moment I saw you, you hated the sight of me My small fingers tried to wrap around yours
By Kimberley Lane8 years ago in Poets
We are more than what was once thought of. We are more than objects that reflect your ego. We are more than a pretty face, that should smile more.
By Gloria Deleon8 years ago in Poets
My balloon is a big balloon, I carry it wherever I go. The string is frayed and there's holes all around. Some say I should just let it fall to the ground.
By Jasmine Williamson8 years ago in Poets
The Mother Bleeds. Bleeding through this aching and resisting vessel As a not so subtle reminder of the sacred power and gentleness that flow
By Bodine Waterfire8 years ago in Poets
Will I wilt for you or will I bloom?You have the power to determine how I will fume. I waited for you like a rose.I waited for you for so long I basically froze.
By Altair E8 years ago in Poets
We're the voices The shouting The hurricane The rainstorm We are you. We're the words The demons The angels The sunshine
By Brooklyn B8 years ago in Poets
A staunch, bottom stone that holds the weight of the wall All of the other bricks down here are just broken Chiseled down by previously made conditions
By Andrew Schrader8 years ago in Poets
As we carry on day by day with our cell phones and shirt that says “Slay,” What are we really? As our heads are bowed in silence watching a conversation happen on a screen, unfocused in reality but on reality tv?
By Taylor Newby8 years ago in Poets
We were lying in your bed Close but not too close I sensed your resistance to my presence But lingering lust, too That was how it was
By Brit8 years ago in Poets
How can your touch Goes so deep.. Beyond my senses combined Yet no matter how hard I try .. I can never keep? How can you
By Sameer Issa8 years ago in Poets
Anxiety Voiceless When I used to speak loud Loudly getting my Point across Because I'm afraid To calm down And be hurt again
By Ebony Neal8 years ago in Poets
It’s funny, growing up in a place that isn’t supposed to be ‘yours’, your mirror- people that do not look like you. And so I grew, my skin one colour, my mind another, my soul- something in between.
By Mariia Bashmakova8 years ago in Poets
