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.

Digging a Hole
Digging a Hole I dig a hole in the quiet earth, feeling the weight of every lifted handful, and the soil tells stories older than mine,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Bring My Hunting Coat, Mary
Bring My Hunting Coat, Mary Bring my hunting coat, Mary, the wind is turning, and I feel the cold rising across the fields,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Upside-down Mouse
“The Broken Finger Story is not just about pain it is the comic checkpoint that softened the gloom. What started as a rupture turned into sovereign wit, reframing doom into laughter. I have now recorded it in my personal archive as a ceremony, a reminder that even pauses can ignite new passion.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a month ago in Poets
The Poet’s Pen Went Cold
The Poet’s Pen Went Cold The poet’s pen went cold as ice he stared at words that would not play nice His mind went blank, his tea went stale
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Why?
Why? Why does the world turn when I feel still, caught between questions I cannot answer, and why does the heart search for meaning,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
The Enchanted Scroll
The Enchanted Scroll My name written in a place that breathes and waits, curled inside a scroll that knows my every scar.
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Universal Knowledge
Universal Knowledge The universe whispers in gentle phrases, spoken through stars and drifting time, and I pause to listen to its quiet wisdom,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
The Outsider
I grew up on pews and polished smiles, knew every hymn before my name. A pastor’s kid — raised on altars, raised to be the flame.
By Hannah Lambertabout a month ago in Poets
Christmas In Heaven
Christmas In Heaven Christmas still happens when love has gone, that laughter does not stop when bodies die. I set a chair where absence usually sits,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Radio Twilight
Bustling gods, leaving a sliver for a smile an explosion as a jest, and the sky as the revealer of their net of lies and miracles.
By Avocado Nunzella BSc (Psych) -- M.A.P about a month ago in Poets
Be Wary Your Flame
We all have a flame that burns inside us... Or at least we used to. So many people... Have no flame left... No passion...
By Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, DFM, DHM, DAS (hc)about a month ago in Poets
Let It Shine
I need someone who Plays with the fire in my eyes Not extinguish it
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a month ago in Poets