Family

Whispers of the Forgotten Wind
By Nadeem Shah I. The Wind Remembers The wind does not forget It gathers our yesterdays And scatters them gently across the pines—
By Nadeem Shah 6 months ago in Poets
Let’s Go Pinching Apples
Let’s Go Pinching Apples Let’s go pinching apples from the neighbours’ trees creep along the fence-line soft and on our knees
By Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
Grandad Was Crumpet Mad
Grandad Was Crumpet Mad Grandad, he was crumpet mad and I don’t mean the ones you cook he was a naughty lad Granny took it in her stride
By Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
The Battle of Jungle Rock
The Battle of Jungle Rock They came at dusk, no warning cry just drums that thudded low and dry the trees grew still, the sky turned black
By Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
100 Words of Family Secrets
“Too Bloody,” She said “Leave It,” She said I counseled, She cried Her voice was minuscule “It’s better this way,
By vijay sam6 months ago in Poets
Hidden Danger
Who’s next? As we pretend our communities grow in strength, we often find ourselves mourning another loss— someone’s beloved family,
By Marcus Hill6 months ago in Poets
Where I Was Made
I am from the in between, not quite small and not quite large. I am from quiet classrooms and bustling hallways. I am from the languid streams and rushing roads.
By caito6 months ago in Poets
Location, Memory, and the Geography of the Soul
Location, Memory, and the Geography of the Soul Welcome to the last day of our guided poetry prompt challenge! Today’s prompt is zip codes. A boring little box on a form. ooooorrrrr a sacred set of digits that hold your origin story, your heartbreak, your grandma’s kitchen, the first street you learned to lie on. This is your map. And poetry is the vehicle.
By Ellie Hoovs6 months ago in Poets
The First Goodbye
Holding tight, I don’t want to let go. His warm, soft cheek pressed against mine. Chest to chest, heartbeat against heartbeat,
By Sandy Gillman6 months ago in Poets
The Hurt We Inherit
The Hurt We Inherit A Poem in Essay Form waseem khan We don’t always inherit silver. Sometimes we inherit silence. Fists that were never raised, but always implied.
By waseem khan6 months ago in Poets
How I Disappear . Content Warning.
I don’t know what you thought motherhood was supposed to be But this is not it Just because you don’t use your fists Doesn’t mean you don’t hit
By C. Carlson6 months ago in Poets
How to Murder a Sunday Roast
How to Murder a Sunday Roast Get up late, no apron, no shame, the meat’s still frozen, blame the game. Peel the tatties if they dare
By Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets