remember when it was hot outside and we would sit with our backs against the yellow siding and we would let the warmth touch our faces, the bare feet touching the hot concrete tiles and we would think “there’s no place better than this?”
By Ada Zuba8 months ago in Poets
Six years gone. But, I still flinch at 7:14pm. First shift, travel nurse, the hospital: clamped to the spine of a jagged mountain.
By Sandor Szabo8 months ago in Poets
I wrote the following quickly after hearing the news, but felt it best to go back and add this because so much goes unsaid
By Paul Stewart8 months ago in Poets
The old weathered wood squeaked, like mice, in a field of sun-ripened raspberries. Early morning fog, scented velvet aqua,
By Ellie Hoovs8 months ago in Poets
When I was a child I prayed first to God then to the Lord then to my own head confused by what the names meant and not quite certain
By Cali Loria8 months ago in Poets
There are harpies from hell that with you take flight, They soar above rooftops on wings of the night. There is nothing to see in a world that killed light —
By Tom Baker8 months ago in Poets
I. The City Sleeps with One Eye Open The city hunches like a drunk in the alley, coughing neon into puddles, its breath thick with secrets and gin.
By Esther Sun8 months ago in Poets
Golden spill across glass and stone, Sky blushes in hues softly grown. Steel giants shimmer, touched by flame, Silent in dusk, yet never the same.
By mitty anego8 months ago in Poets
I forged my ribs into blackened steel, where love once burned, now cold, concealed. A throne of ash, where hope once knelt—
An elephant calf grows David to Goliath tethered to an entrenched, stannic staff. Thinking itself chattel chained feeling lashes past phantom pained
By Chris Z8 months ago in Poets
Someone on here asked me if I’ve ever experienced something that made me truly understand how powerful grief can be, and I thought—what an amazing question. I have to write about it.
By April Kirby.8 months ago in Poets
“There is a time for everything… a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4
By Mezmur8 months ago in Poets
