She doesn’t speak many words. Inside her mind is a thesaurus though. Little blooming words that can’t escape her lips. Everyone thinks she’s got nothing to say,
By Josey Pickeringabout a year ago in Poets
Song sets sail in my quiet mind, In hidden places, thought Long abandoned, by the Essence of happiness, Nestled deep within the
By Colleen Waltersabout a year ago in Poets
Shhhh! Listen… Incredible things can be heard if you but only still Lips stop moving Eyes close Noise from outside becomes distant
By Heather Zieffle about a year ago in Poets
Sound of an apex preditor Inward Indifference exuded outwardly as censor for the meticulously inclined Lending a lease on life to others
By simplicityabout a year ago in Poets
She lays on the driveway In a desperate attempt to escape from her thoughts. Listening to the stillness with peaked attention
By Bria Lamonicaabout a year ago in Poets
Stinky sandwich smell. Irritated, I hear the bell. Late again, oooh don't tell. Economics can go to hell. “Nothing better!” I caustically yell.
By Hyde Wunderli about a year ago in Poets
Something stirs beneath the surface Inside labyrinthine walls built thick with forgotten scars, Left rotten and decayed in subtle putrefaction,
By Ian Readabout a year ago in Poets
Supreme sovereignty over my suspended heart If it disappears, my heart will be troubled Like a spring day when the piano plays
By Tony Herlinabout a year ago in Poets
since the moment I met you, you’ve been immortal to me, our time never-ending but life, today, showed me that even though we tightly close our eyes
By R.C. Taylorabout a year ago in Poets
Subtle is the balsam that Inspires a certain caution. Leaving us to exercise Exquisite rapture, golden. Nothing can compare with this
By Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago in Poets
Shhh! I don’t wanna hear a sound. I don’t wanna hear it now. Listen to me. Every noise should be missing to me. Not a word.
By Joe Pattersonabout a year ago in Poets
THE FIRST LAW Silently unanchored, I ride capricious winds, Leading me toward you; Even with obstacles, Nuanced potholes pock the substrate,
By Gerard DiLeoabout a year ago in Poets
