Elegy

The Space We Share.
To those who had to grow up too fast, I am still a child. I will live your childhood for you. I should be grown up just like you are, but that little kid inside of me won’t let me. So I walk with her along the path to my childhood home. We play hopscotch and toss stones. I hold the hand of the kid you never got to be, and you play with us—both versions of me. The version that lives on in a house I no longer dwell in, and the current version of me who just can’t keep going.
By April Kirby.16 days ago in Poets
Scammers, Cash For Gold - Holiday Robbery, Did I Tell You About The Time I Went To A "Pawn" Shop, Did I? #Jamaican #Dilemmas
I know it sort of sounds weird, me robbing the older person. Taking what they didn't give, or perhaps left for me to do. I know it sort of sounds weird, me robbing the older person.
By 365poetry - "Holy Trinity":::: I Know The Cross, It's The Spirit Of Kharôn Latin Spelling (Charon) Translation "Fierce Brightness"18 days ago in Poets
I Can't Ever Remember The Order - Anyone Knows?
Now Dasher, or was it Prancer? Vixen, or Blixen ? Jamaica is not on the map - and I'm tired of trying to protect them from TREASON!
By 365poetry - "Holy Trinity":::: I Know The Cross, It's The Spirit Of Kharôn Latin Spelling (Charon) Translation "Fierce Brightness"18 days ago in Poets
Decomposition
Tonight is an unhaunted tomb. Open your window and welcome the yellow Moon. Let it crawl through and fill its belly with your fears.
By Sean19 days ago in Poets
Blue Whale Found
Blue whale found beached outside of Oil Piers. Seventy-eight feet, floated in the channel for days before reaching the Ventura coastline.
By Sean19 days ago in Poets
William Westerfeldt House
Western czarina, she is a gothic embodiment of smoke and brass. Her jungle-cat perfume saunters passed in woven gossamer. She’ll put it plainly, as she only can, how she once swam with snow-white saxophones, lap steels, and baby grands, and how her phonographs have since ceased to sing after so many years of breathing in the brine of bay air. And each night's crushed red spectacle beside the words carved by Anger into the staircase of her spine. She’d abide the elephant in her parlor-room, his aloof squeeze and the rotgut things they got up to. On her lacquered breast, they performed their wanton rites with the Acid Test and Grateful Dead. Ibex and the Bearcat clung to the waist of her vestibule, while Leopard spread with all the flare of Victorian taxidermy across her belly. She’s long been swindled of sleep behind the back-lit fuchsia of Alamo Square, while dervish stars whirl slovenly above and divvy up the cosmic minutia: stardust, sex, and music.
By Sean19 days ago in Poets
You're My Best Friend
You're My Best Friend 🍁🦋🕊️🌸♎💜♉🌸🕊️🦋🍁 Thank You For Being My Best Friend You're The One Who Showed Me The Way Built Me Up Each And Every Day 🕊️♎💜♉🕊️ And Our Friendship Will Never End You Have Shown Me Such Perfect Trust What You've Given Me Is Gold Dust 🕊️♎💜♉🕊️ I'm Here Because Of You My Friend You Have Given Me So Much Love So Thank You My Beautiful Dove 🕊️♎💜♉🕊️ You Raise My Spirits, You're My Gem I Love You Back My Lovely Cats My Companions And Perfect Match 🕊️♎💜♉🕊️ Princess And Pets, Three Perfect Friends Sharing Much Love And Such Friendship One That Will Never Be Eclipsed 🍁🦋🕊️🌸♎💜♉🌸🕊️🦋🍁
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 20 days ago in Poets
The Outhouse
Sitting around the cabin in the warm sun carefully peeling the labels from frosted moist stubby beer bottles as if divine
By Gerry Thibeault20 days ago in Poets
Girl fuck Uuuuu. Content Warning.
Girl fuck you, And I really mean it as not as fucking you, Like fuck you cause you're a bitch, Fuck you cause you think you rule shit,
By Erica Williams20 days ago in Poets
Memory Soup
Pot of chicken soup, Savory and warm with the Memory of you * Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this poem, I’d appreciate it so much if you shared it and left a heart, a tip, and a pledge! And subscribe to see more of my writing in the future!
By Jaye Ruggiero-Cash22 days ago in Poets
For The Lord of the Highway
I The Lord of the Highway died this week, poet, raconteur, honky-tonk hero, the first person I’d ever heard * to blend a West Texas twang
By David Muñoz24 days ago in Poets
shadows and years. Winner in The Last Flame Challenge. Top Story - December 2025. Content Warning.
a man sits alone at an oval oak table with a birthday cake, seven candles striped red and white (little candy cane babies)
By John R. Godwin25 days ago in Poets