Silent moments and vigils won't make it right, Instead, we must act to stamp out this blight. License firearms, a simple first step,
By Allison Baggott-Roweabout a year ago in Poets
Sonata as soliloquy: Echoes, In and out; Of me, as my heart, skipping beats Like stone. A cross. A still. Yet, stormy sea beneath which
By Jabout a year ago in Poets
Slowly to the floor I kneel, Life whispering like snow falling in the Evening hush of a wintery day, silent Notes prompting stillness and being,
By John Coxabout a year ago in Poets
Swore that would be the last time I let you take a scalpel to my brain, said: I will never speak to you again Lies are your first language, manipulation your second
By Poppy about a year ago in Poets
Stir flames against your fears and sorrows Incinerate your impulses and inhale Let all thoughts be ashes… soft and noiseless as lilies
By Sam Spinelliabout a year ago in Poets
Swindlers be, and into the darkness, we march. Lost sheep to the slaughter, easy as hating the other guy; the wrong. Nothing
By Mackenzie Davisabout a year ago in Poets
Soon it will be Autumn, enjoy summer while it lasts It's close to harvest season, with every day that's passed Longer days are gone, the sunsets are coming fast
By Her Ellaness♿️about a year ago in Poets
Slender form between air particles Incite me to find you Lend your everything and your nothing Empty out my pretenses Naked and just a little afraid
By Melissaabout a year ago in Poets
stillness is the moment between two songs on the radio, struggling for reception. into a void I scream for an escape from the liminal space, trapping me and my stifled steps trudging the carpeted floor.
By Dark Constellationsabout a year ago in Poets
Still as the wind with no breeze I invoke nature to bring me peace Listening for any proof of existence besides me Embracing only energy that surrounds me
By Chrystal Holdrenabout a year ago in Poets
Sitting here, the stillness of the night deafens me, I hear that familiar voice on the night breeze, Little ugly girl, ain't Black, ain't white. No place to call home.
By Misty Raeabout a year ago in Poets
Snowfall came early with hushed ferocity whilst indwelling levels of ‘comprehensive quiet me’ perched on a window ledge convinced I could read even as the
By The Dani Writerabout a year ago in Poets
