Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Poets.

Pretending to Live
I’m pretending to live. I’m supposed to be young, But youth is fleeting and naive. But these are the best years of my life.
By Mary McCool8 years ago in Poets
The Values of Old
Books and stories can reveal much about the author who wrote them and the period at which they lived. Whether it be their dialect or actions, characters tend to reflect how people were during that time. In the poem Beowulf, one can learn the values of the Anglo-Saxon society. For example, the main hero Beowulf and others show strong characteristics of bravery, loyalty, and faithfulness to God.
By Almárëa Laurësil8 years ago in Poets
La Libra De Monteque and Leading Which Toward
Le Libro De Monteque And Leading Which toward That which hopes that which dreams, a book so precious rarely never gleams. Forged of leathered perfect Devine, ceases to exist of time.
By Ana Elle8 years ago in Poets
Paradox Green
I don’t suppose trees are green Trees are purple Yellow Blue even But not green Green trees would be too normal Not normal
By Morgan Mcgarey8 years ago in Poets
Preparing for the Day
He hated the taste nightmares left in his mouth. They coated his teeth in ash and left his tongue tasting like chalk. His throat was replaced with sandpaper so his screams were just rough scraps that escaped his unconscious body. He stood in front of the mirror as he laced his toothbrush with the only white mint substance that would refresh his mouth to life. As the taste expanded from his lips to each tooth he felt his body begin to relax. As the ritual came to an end, he spit one last time. The residue of last nights horrors were rinsed down the drain. Forgotten until the approaching night.
By Matisse Mosher8 years ago in Poets
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Do you ever feel you have a self destruct switch? Or sometimes feel as if you cant even be human? All the feelings and emotions take over, you just want it all to STOP.
By Crystal Korpan8 years ago in Poets
The Locksmith and the Dove
Accepting the death of a loved one is less painful. Death of someone else, to you, is not fatal. It is less painful than accepting a loved one.
By S.G. Hill8 years ago in Poets
An American Dream
I looked around the nice restaurant. There were not many people here, just a few couples scattered around the room immersed in their own conversations. I could not remember the last time I had been in a city bigger than my hometown. My cousin, Christina, had moved to New York City a few years back. I rarely left my small home in rural Massachusetts. She convinced me to come and visit her. When I arrived, and we had caught up with each other; Christina told me that she knew a man that I should meet. I was not too anxious to meet a man. I had some unsavory encounters in the past. She believed that I was too shy. To make her happy I agreed to go on the blind date. Christina told me that he was a poet and that she had met him at one of his readings. I guessed that since he wrote, too, at least we would have something to talk about.
By Almárëa Laurësil8 years ago in Poets
In a Foreign City
Beneath your feet the pavement feels wild in a foreign city. You stumble along the snaking lanes, twisting this way and that, hoping that it will lead you
By Charli Finch8 years ago in Poets
Wild Thoughts
There is so much running through my head daily. Like, I wonder how much is this all going to be worth when I make it big.
By Crissy DXCII8 years ago in Poets
A Silent Shiver
The crisp air blows throughout my little town, the one that I call home. It sends a shiver through my body and permeates the layers of warmth
By Alexis Rogers8 years ago in Poets
The "Whys"
When you actually really thought there’s no such thing as Autumn sadness. I never believed when they said that there is. It never caught me as it did now.
By Brownie Haze8 years ago in Poets