excerpts
Poets Media isolates the most poignant, powerful, and exquisitely composed verses and quotes in the universal poetry canon.
My soul resides in colours
I was 17 and surrounded by the grey walls of high school when I began to discover who I was. Her fiery hair passed me in the halls and I wished I could burn as brightly as her, wished I could walk beside her. Now the pink, purple, blue sunsets call out to me and I think of a woman with golden hair who dances under grey storm clouds. She's untouchable, and grey has a new meaning to me. I used to want to live in yellows, to be a bright source to those around me, and carry around sunflowers, but I've learned that my soul resides in quiet shades of brown. It's the colour of the dirt and soil when I run through a forest. It's the colour of my birthmark I pretend marked me as a witch in another life. It's the colour of old leather-bound books I long to be surounded by. Opening them and breathing them in is like smelling time itself. Brown is the colour of the coffee I have an addiction to that sometimes keeps me up well into the night, but that time of day brings me closer to the moon. Her silvery presence is a constant and reminds me that I am a part of a universe bigger than myself.
By Rebecca Lourenco5 years ago in Poets
Projection as a new man
For once, I don't care about my shadow. I do not watch it dissolve into quiet jade earth. It is too late to turn around & ask questions against the light. It is late dusk when the mountain range, first to darken, is stripped of boulder and definition until it is as flat as the porcelain moon growing inside. So black that it is no longer a mountain, but a mouth, a tunnel dug into the clear coral hour. Where is the way in? the pale breeze carries only salt in-
By Jason Kang5 years ago in Poets
Coffee: the arcane ingredient in the evolution of a demi goddess
Created from the university library My first sip of coffee was awful, but after I downed the entire cup in desperation to complete a final in a class I never attended it launched me into a space where ancient Romans, origin of the stars, and the entangling of religions twisted into my brain cells and I was flying through notecards and highlighted notebook pages like I’d entered the Twilight Zone of Mt. Olympos. By the time I had went back to the silver canister of coffee with a hand-written sign next to it that said “Free Coffee” in black marker three times that evening, and each of those times the process started the same me making wincing face, taking another sip, and turning the page of a textbook trying to memorize every word on the page.
By Alexa Chiefari5 years ago in Poets
