Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Poetry from a Broken Woman
I worked so hard to get to know me. To find out again that I have changed. My body, mind, and Spirit. Everything except my name. The ones who think they know me, are the ones that are left confused. The person I once was is only the person they once knew. Time is only how you use it and my clock seems to be broke. I seem to be stuck in time by a story already wrote. I can not skip ahead. I can only just look back. On the Pages already written from where I walked that was my path. The words are written in ink, I found while trying to erase. Parts I didn’t like and things I didn’t mean to say. Time always still seems broken because it’s never on my side. It always fights against me and there’s nowhere I can hide. I try to flip ahead to see what the story holds. Yet the Pages are all blank because it’s written in as it is told. Never mind these Pages! I’ll just write them in myself! But again I seem to fail because it’s only written as it’s felt! Emotions and regret, happiness, and joy are the pens that seem to write this almost pointless story. Time never stands still. Yet certain moments tend to freeze. Moments that mean the most. Moments just like these. Never try to erase. Just remember what can be changed. The person you are tomorrow. Doesn’t have to be the person you were today. Try on different types of you until you find the one that fits. Time might not stand still but it’s up to you just what you’ll miss!
By Jessica Hodges8 years ago in Poets
Body Nostalgic
From the Beginning I hung on your doorframelike a hinge,and wore the white dressbecause I thoughtyou would remembermy body without organs,haunting a frontal lobe.I must have lost my mind.Renegadebrains on leashesflying faster away,which must be whywe love abandoned,frantic things,and panic whena temporal node forgetsthe sensation ofof a beating, deserted coreor a door being closedbehind you.
By Margot Eastles8 years ago in Poets
A Poem for Dark Skin Girls
A Poem for Dark Skinned Girls. I espressoed your skin and licoriced your hair. I dug my fingers into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean to mold you with a bit of Egyptian gold. I smeared honey on your thighs, brushed cinnamon on your check bones and sprawled you in front of the sun until you were the color of the midnight sky. I named you “north”, “alpha”, “queen” and “big mama.” Charged with birthing the earth and holding up half the sky; you make humanity a possibility.
By Nova Darling8 years ago in Poets
