Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
The Road, The Car & I
I died. I was hit by a car, the latest edition of Ford's B-max series. It was blue. The driver wore a black body warmer. This driver also wore a red cap that featured some sort of team. The driver's “partner” who sat next to the driver wore roughly the same. It could be presumed that they had come from some event.
By James Birkett8 years ago in Poets
Behind a Screen
The first time she saw him she felt so shy. Her heart beats so fast. The first time she talks to him she just said hi as time went on she kept on talking and saying more than just hi. her lip biting made her nervous. She thought he was more than a goodbye. She thought he was more than a simple hi. when he yelled and cursed her out... she felt lost and broken. She didn't want to say goodbye as the hearts got deeper and deeper she didn't want to let it go but instead of a how do you do it turned to screw you and then she said goodbye.
By Mysticvoice8 years ago in Poets
Another Rape Poem
“Another rape poem.” I have now lost the attention of the boys in my class. They all sigh, put their feet up, and roll their eyes. They mutter words like feminist, social justice warrior. Bitch. They tune me out, my pain and struggle only being white noise to their ignorant ears. That is rape culture. When speaking of sexual assault, they sigh and say “Well, why don't they just dress appropriately?” All I want to do is yell, and scream until my voice is hoarse enough to be mistaken for a mans and they will finally listen to me. I am tired. I am tired of fighting a war against the world. A world that wants to take my words and turn me into nothing, but skin and bones. Statistics and numbers. Body and object. I am tired. Tired of fighting against my closest friends. Against the people I love most. Because 93% of sexual assault victims know their attacker. 34% of attackers are family members. Because when I am fighting against rape culture I am not just fighting against creeps in alleyways. I am fighting business executives, and teachers, and soldiers, and uncles and the repetitive songs on the radio. I'm fighting high school dropouts and college graduates. Im fighting women's magazines and doctors and salesman and police officers. I am fighting the world one “Stupid Rape Poem” and “Social Activist Fit” at a time. Because no matter how many times I cry out. No matter how many times I scream. I will only be white noise to them.
By Cass Koprowski8 years ago in Poets
From Broken to Healing
She took my heart in her hands and promised she wouldn’t break it or hurt it in any way. Now I’m standing here with my heart in my hands shattered into pieces. With no feeling at all and numb to the bone, I wasn’t planning on letting anyone else in my heart. I let it fall to the ground walked away and left it there for the wind to take away. As I laid in the dark alone with thoughts running through my mind trying to look for answers to questions that won’t ever be answered. The way it ended and the things that were said stay’s stuck in my head. How can someone like that just change out of nowhere?
By Angie Ramos8 years ago in Poets
