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.
Poem of the World
I have heard a story of this magnitude only once. It's interesting as well as confusing. It's happy as well as sad. It's light but some of it is dark. It's fair as well as self-centred. It's full of good and bad people, but no one realizes it's about living in the world we are in today. The final chapter would be the end of the world as we know it, but in this story I hope you realize to change the end, you must change yourself. So please read this story and listen to these famous words: The world is what you make it. Really think about that famous line because what you do now could change the future and make it better.
By Rex Sinclair5 years ago in Poets
Heroes, Halos, Hallucinations
One day while taking a relaxing walk through the forest, I came across a tree with a circular stairway, and as I followed the stairway up the tree with my eyes I spied multiple treehouses in the upper branches. Unable to resist the allure of the treehouses, I climbed the stairway taking in each treehouse as I went along, however, it was the uppermost house that caught my eye and so I went inside. Once inside I see a comfortable seating space, mood lighting, a window nook, and book-lined shelves, just the kind of place where I could relax and read a book. I walk over to the window nook to observe the scenery past it’s panes, and as I attempt to make space for me to sit and enjoy the view, a little black notebook with a pen inside of it sitting in the window nook catches my eye. It looked to be of fine quality, and the pen was a calligraphy pen, which is not a common writing instrument, but one that can produce the most elegant writing. Curious as to what was being written in this little black book with this unusual pen, I decided to find out what delights it contained. So I pick up the little black book, go and get comfortable on the couch, and open it up to see what’s inside. The first thing that I notice is that the handwriting is clear, precise, and really artistic in nature, so much better than my handwriting which my grandmother would compare to chicken scratch whenever she had to read something that I had handwritten.
By ReGina Crawford5 years ago in Poets
Those Eyes
I rather see the world through the eyes of a child. To see the world with innocence, joy, playfully, no judgement, bright and smiling. Eyes that believe in fairies, and laughs at the stars. Eyes that are amazed at discovery and are in awww at silly things and butterflies, lady bugs, and rainbows. Eyes that don't lie about emotions and sleep with angelic peace. The eyes of a child are unbiased, clear, and blameless. The eyes of a child uplifts, heals, and gives hope.
By J. R. Floyd5 years ago in Poets
Revenge is Mine
Along this vast highland where dreams are sold, a champion is foretold. His tale has just begun, his father’s parting words are everlasting, On this here tombstone where heroes lay, forged in might, forged in scorn, A vengeful spirit seeks his reward, that in this life; death’s toll be fivefold, So is the promise, so is the cost, of this champion’s reality.
By Edith Guzman5 years ago in Poets
