Family

Graham Cracker, Peanut Butter, Chocolate Chips!
Graham cracker, peanut butter, chocolate chips! * Simple combo, Nothing better, Favorite snack! * Mother's go-to Always perfect
By Gabriel Huizenga2 years ago in Poets
Tears of an abusive man. Content Warning.
Consequences of reckless behavior toward my family! Do I understand why my heart was so cruel?
By Gloria Penelope2 years ago in Poets
Favorite Girl
A dog barks its need to play - A heated plea to please the day. An owner groans its need to sleep - Burrowing deep, beneath the sheets.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Poets
Nostalgic Bites
In a small open kitchen, memories brew, With flour, eggs, and love so true. Mother's hands, a symphony of care, Creating paratha rolls, a snack so rare.
By Ameer Bibi2 years ago in Poets
grandma’s brownies
when grandma’s brownies laid on the counter fresh and hot and sending a warmth like no other wafting deliciously through the kitchen
By angela hepworth2 years ago in Poets
White Mountains
awake listening to the rain and you fighting it out for scraps . I welcome night fading lights out and you
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
Two sheep
two sheep in a field, one fat, one skinny , The fat one's pride was quite the scene. She flaunted her meat without a care,
By “M”2 years ago in Poets
Sounds of Boyhood
metal crash dash jump kerplunk slam dunk . "Thomas, come home right this instant!" “Awe, Mom! In a minute?”
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
Moonpie Sonata
My tongue is engulfed in the enchanting taste of my grandparent’s ambrosian dish, the Moonpie Sonata. It is an eccentric recipe elegantly packed in a transparent, quaint, tall, drinking glass—as the recipe is incomplete without the glassware that houses this epic, dessert, extravaganza.
By K. Wisendanger 2 years ago in Poets
Domestic
I like beer bottles better than cans I like the way it tastes, simple and unpretentious like it was never meant to be anything but this
By Alexa2 years ago in Poets
Hard Progress
Disagreement, bottled up, Fission manifest in full; Complete. Journey forced, allied by skill, Cold land calls-- Beckons me home.
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man2 years ago in Poets
the little goat
In a forest deep and green, The little goat was a playful scene His hooves danced on the forest floor, As he frolicked and explored more.
By “M”2 years ago in Poets