I never stopped to think about it until very recently how sad it is we can never enjoy the simple pleasure of a piggyback,
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
i have a lot to say and a lot of people i want to hear me say it so it isn't the throws of shade no intentions of addressing inequitable exchanges
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
"i dont’ know who you are anymore,” soft sounds of fraud's mouth, “i don’t know where my baby is." i smile, and i edge close to him, “it’s the same me as ever, sweet love, and i am nobody’s baby anymore.”
In the beginning, there was light, Not from the heavens, nor stars so bright, But from the hearts of those who knew,
By PETER Jabout a year ago in Poets
Softly, the air hangs heavy in the room, In the eye's fading light, shadows deepen, Lips murmur soundless prayers, for release from pain,
By Randy Dannenfelserabout a year ago in Poets
Softly, the world holds its breath in awe, In that kneeling moment, his emotions raw, Love offers the ring, waiting for her smile,
Stillness while heartbeats pause awaiting, In the sterile birthing room, soft whispers of breath, Looming shadows axiously move in the quiet air,
Smile, your smile lit up every room you entered. A brilliant, bright beam. It was something, someone I never knew, Lightning in a bottle. Love, laughter and light. The voice of an angel
By Misty Raeabout a year ago in Poets
Silently I yawn. I want my husband's snores gone. Lovingly I see his eyes. Each word he says is wise. Now I will hold his hand.
By Darla M Seelyabout a year ago in Poets
Sonata as soliloquy: Echoes, In and out; Of me, as my heart, skipping beats Like stone. A cross. A still. Yet, stormy sea beneath which
By Jabout a year ago in Poets
Sitting here, the stillness of the night deafens me, I hear that familiar voice on the night breeze, Little ugly girl, ain't Black, ain't white. No place to call home.
Soft are the blankets that covered your tiny bodies. Innate is the love we felt the moment you each were born. Long it has been since either of you fit those blankets.
By Henri Korolisabout a year ago in Poets
