fact or fiction

Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about what makes a good poem and the poetry rules that were made to be broken.

Where Did My Life Go To?
Where Did My Life Go To? Tonight the headline breaks inside my chest, no ink, no paper, no witness but me. Where did my life go to, tell me plainly,
By Marie381Uk about 2 hours ago in Poets
Where She Breaks
Where She Breaks She stands in a room full of mirrors, Yet cannot bear her own reflection. Her lipstick bleeds beyond the line,
By Marie381Uk about 7 hours ago in Poets
No Dosh for the Madam
No Dosh for the Madam She woke one morning sharp with scheme, A crown imagined, bold and bright, She said, I shall be Madam now,
By Marie381Uk about 8 hours ago in Poets
Tagged Poetry
Tag My poetry I tag my poems so it’s not lost, so it does not drift faceless through the crowd, so it does not wander unnamed in the noise,
By Marie381Uk about 10 hours ago in Poets
From a Sobeys Parking Lot at the End of the World
Another morning-night-morning shift… the familiar toss up of sunrises: something between poppy-coloured clouds and Bellini-soaked skies...
By sleepy draftsabout 11 hours ago in Poets
Dinner Served- Day 41. Content Warning.
There is no salt - Get the damn salt, Not my fault It tastes sour - Really, the poison's power, not even an hour
By Parvathi Jabout 12 hours ago in Poets
Living with a Broken Heart
bruise under my ribs learning to breathe differently inhale and exhale
By Tina D. Lopezabout 14 hours ago in Poets
He Cast the Last Tide
He Cast the Last Tide He rose before the gulls, boots wet, hands salted with the tide. The boat groaned under his weight,
By Marie381Uk about 15 hours ago in Poets
Everyday I Wake At 3:09 - I Have 10 Children, A Dog, A Cat - And I Of All The People, Have Been Married For 90 Years, Isn't That Something
As with every person on the planet, I've never been able to understand this whole thing called life . You wake up, and then you wake - and just begin to live...
By 365poetryabout 17 hours ago in Poets
I Hate Being Known As A Child, When I Have Grown Into A Man
A child has parents !? A man has parents !? A child has parents !? A man has parents !? Recently I understood every man was once a child !?
By 365poetryabout 17 hours ago in Poets
Why Are Mornings So Hard
Snoozing the alarm Delaying Monday morning Just five more minutes
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout 21 hours ago in Poets
The Quiet Strength of the Weathered Soul
I’ve noticed a fascinating change: the more trials and tribulations a person weathers, the less argumentative they become. It’s not that they have lost their temper; it’s that they no longer waste it.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout 23 hours ago in Poets