Acrostic

A Soul Bargaining with Fate.
Beneath the silver moon, I knelt, a whisper on my lips, an offering in my hands. The gods did not speak, nor did they turn away—
By Marvelous Michael12 months ago in Poets
I TAKE THE STAGE
I take the stage, and I speak clearly. Not softly, not sweetly—clearly. No violin to soften my syllables, no drum to drown my diction,
By Marvelous Michael12 months ago in Poets
Eternal Coals
Through short lived days and moonlit skies,In stolen looks and mollified sighs,A fire was ignited, unfaltering and true,An ash gleaming, shinning as unused.
By Mr Ali12 months ago in Poets
A poem with no ending
The wind hums low in the belly of dawn, whispering secrets the earth has outgrown. A sparrow awakens, then lifts into flight,
By Badhan Sen12 months ago in Poets
Autumn Leaves of Chang'an
Act I: Palace Walls She counts—bronze clepsydra— A grain of sand, a heartbeat— Moonlight frosts glazed tiles Like abandoned psalms
By Elaine Nova12 months ago in Poets
When it rains.. Top Story - February 2025.
The world hushes itself in the wake of the storm, air humming electric, a silver-threaded symphony in accord— the kind that stills the trees
By Marvelous Michael12 months ago in Poets
Geoffrey Chaucer (c. 1343–1400, England) – The Canterbury Tales
The Frame Narrative The story begins with a prologue in which Chaucer introduces the setting: a group of 29 pilgrims gather at the Tabard Inn in Southwark, near London, preparing for their pilgrimage to Canterbury. The host of the inn, Harry Bailey, suggests that to pass the time, each pilgrim should tell two tales on the way to Canterbury and two on the way back. The best storyteller will receive a free meal upon their return, paid for by the other pilgrims.
By Mr Ali12 months ago in Poets
My Voice or Theirs.
I’ve been thinking about the sounds I take in— the voices that weave themselves into my breath, the melodies that settle in my bones,
By Marvelous Michael12 months ago in Poets
M.I.D.D.L.E C.H.I.L.D
Made of fire and quiet storms, In a world that sees us as too much, Daring to be loud, daring to exist, Defiant in the face of being dismissed,
By Marvelous Michael12 months ago in Poets
Old Love
Old love, I say is the best love Look and see my Dove Do we fit like a glove? Loving and growing old Only it's not easy to do I'm told
By Denise E Lindquist12 months ago in Poets
Ocean Vuong: A Poetic Voice of Intimacy, Loss, and Resilience
Early Life and Influences Born in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, in 1988, Vuong immigrated to the United States with his family as a child. His upbringing in a working-class immigrant household in Hartford, Connecticut, played a crucial role in shaping his literary voice. Growing up, he was drawn to storytelling, especially as a way to bridge the cultural and linguistic gaps between himself and the world around him. He learned English at a later age, and this delayed acquisition of language informs much of his work, particularly his fascination with words, their meanings, and their limitations.
By Mr Ali12 months ago in Poets
Love In Fifty Words
Love In Fifty Words, Eleven Hours Left Oh I'd Love To Win, But I'll Feel Bereft Verily, Yes Love Always Fills My Time Every Smile That I See I Love So Fine Love Is A Most Perfect Inspiration Outrageously Wonderful Elation Vaguely, Hopefully, Lovingly Forward Excellent Romance And Much More
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 12 months ago in Poets