Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
The Sunset Roams
Through the lens, you can always see the clearer picture. The delicate outlook on true meaning of this fine remarkable life. I've always sat on that fine bitter line where most people you hardly notice stand. The quiet girl with the most meaningful things to say but yet she remains quiet in fear that nobody will truly understand her. Tugging at the end of my clothes at the most inappropriate times. How I can so simply annoy others with the silence when I have nothing left to really say. The glances that I give myself as I pass by a mirror as though it's there to literately mock me. Taunting me, questioning whether or not I should be proud of who I've become as a person. Walk through the darkest aromas in my life. Where pity lays ahead with questionable doubts. Even that tunes out the sound of my breathing as I try to gasp the reality of what life really even means. The tension builds up as you finally let go of the grip and just dance to the beat of life. Dance until the spark of the sunset shines through the cracks of what really is missing. The smell of simple truth through soft tenderness of some afternoon quickie. That ever lasting heartbeat that beats so carelessly as you lay awake at night counting the fragile tiles across the ceiling above you. How easy it is to over think such small things that might not mean much at all. You can already smell the truth as though you would delicious freshly baked goods in the bright early morning of some crowded Saturday, surrounded by people you try to distant yourself from on any other day. Coffee, I pass on, I'm much more a caffeine chick, myself. Slowly sipping away as I gaze out into the open scenery of what is ahead. In life we learn. Not just from our mistakes but the simple things that we come across on our way to whatever Journey that might be ahead.
By Heather Watkins8 years ago in Poets
Wolf's Howl
Tis our time of our Oak Lord to rise, For the Holly King, who bares the winter wreath,Shall now lie in slumber once more,From his age long battle with the younger Oak Lord. Their swords are mixed with the symbols of an ancient world,As the spirits of the worlds and nature are one,Twisted and entwined joining the centre of the starlit sky to the centre of the earth.
By Alixzandra Wiseman8 years ago in Poets
At Dawn
At dawn, the early morning dew sends chills of excitement down my spine, woahs of wonder echo across the void of vast grass, a place of pleasantry, a place of rest, a place where all wild things run free. Across the air fly birds, brilliant splashes of color against the pale, pink sky. Spiders cast delicate whisps of silk into the breeze. As the day wears on, I think of tomorrow. I wait and wait as I fall asleep. I smile. Dawn is on its way, waiting for me to come tomorrow.
By Cheyenne Marie8 years ago in Poets
