Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Rushing into Something or Holding Back?
Are you really rushing into something or holding yourself back? Personally, I tend to hold back based on others. I've become aware of how much another's opinion of who you are or what you are doing is really none of their business.
By Christine Lopez8 years ago in Poets
7 Letters: Letter 3
Dear Second Chapter, I went to the bookstore today. I'm sure you know which novel I picked out first. You've been in between my tear-stained pages and pen for so long, I know you wouldn't be surprised that I pulled out a novel with the greatest kind of tragedy, dying for love in vain. Could you imagine if that had happened to us? What if I had taken that bullet for you and you had left me there to embrace a slow and painful death? What if you had ripped me apart, and molded me into your favorite kind of phone call to make when you couldn't breathe, and I never answered?
By Sharlene Alba8 years ago in Poets
Pain
So much pain in the world. No one notices. Because it's the norm. So many suffering in silence without uttering a word. Tensions are at the limit. Pain and suffering has exploded and no-one is safe from anything anymore. Despair and sorrow are part of the dish. They follow us like a lost shadow without a form. We drone through our days on this pain stricken earth. Some maybe be lost, some may think they are ok. But everyone has a thread in this pain and sorrow. What was once beautiful and innocent has transformed into a monster of despair that reaps the soul of the innocents. So much pain in the world.
By Rosita Ahenkora8 years ago in Poets
24th September
My soul is salt, and life is waterMy friends are watching me dissolve. I am a lamb, and my mental state is leading me to slaughter I am waiting for the bolt to the brain I am waiting for the day I cross the road just a little too lateI am waiting for the day I wake up and I no longer feel this waySo when I tell you that trauma is a steep slide I cannot see the bottom of So when I tell you that anxiety has its arms winding around my every limb So when I tell you that panic coarses through my veins like my heart depends on itSo when I tell you that my healthy mental state is just a ghost that roams the empty corridors of my mind So when I tell you that loving me is like a haunted house Its fun to visit once a year but nobody ever wants to stay Please don't become just another tourist So when you ask me about my bad daysPlease do not be brash when I respond with silence "Tell me about the bad days" sounds eerily similar to the hushed discussion the neighbourhood kids have on the porch steps when they're trying to figure out who rings the doorbellYour love will not cure me, Please do not be fooled into thinking it will.
By Megan Taylor8 years ago in Poets
