Free Verse

Bacon
The bacon turns from pink to red in the black pan, Its smoky and salty scent penetrates my nostrils, The popping of the oil coincides with the crackling of the bacon,
By Rebecca Pattonabout a year ago in Poets
To Starfall
"This is an end?" she whispered with awe, gazing out from the lighthouse blazing in the night crowds of passersby pausing to stare up at the sky
By Amanda Starksabout a year ago in Poets
short of
stop short of the minority. no benefits on this fringe; the size of my sizzle alone is enough to stop short of me. stop short of an alien,
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
First
Fingers tap-tap on the table, edge closer, then intertwine, two into one, as his hazel eyes scan her; a twirl of hair, a bitten lip, a nervous smile, then she
By Joe O’Connorabout a year ago in Poets
The Beauty Of A Breeze
The beauty of a breeze invisible to sight, except for swaying shrubs and the rustling of leaves. Your soft essence washes over me with ease, bringing such delight, tickling my face, your gust hits me like a kiss and leaves me amazed, as my every worry you erase, then almost flirtatiously you motion to me with the trees.
By Kenneth cruzabout a year ago in Poets
Lil Black Kitty (Abandoned)
Lil black kitty's watery yellow eyes, tear-shaped waxing gibbous, hold my gaze deflecting to her deflated belly; nipples bulging
By Marilyn Gloverabout a year ago in Poets
Incessancy. Top Story - September 2024.
Insistent prayers morph into poem when stress strikes eyes that glimpse relief in rainbow-contoured light. In silence, I abandon shallow for subterranean inhales of aromatic haven.
By The Dani Writerabout a year ago in Poets
The Idea Of You
A gentle hand caresses an anxious back The aroma of our morning coffee lingers longer than the morning hours The flavors of your Chapstick…Nope that’s for me
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Poets
A Woman In Long Term Recovery
My family has a lot of alcoholics and other addictions. I grew up learning survival skills. How to survive with alcoholism. When I was 24, married with two children, I was using those skills in my alcoholic marriage and they weren't working.
By Denise E Lindquistabout a year ago in Poets
Grandma’s House
Gritty cold hardwood planks hurt my knees and ankles as I crawl around. Bleach meets coffee, while Spanish spices and fragrances of fresh laundry dance in the foreground, they tickle my nostrils fighting for dominance, simultaneously creating a unique scent that one would have to smell.
By Kenneth cruzabout a year ago in Poets
Regret
What was the need to send me to the world? When I was meant to be a matter of regret. I was always a failure as well as a loser,
By Nizam Uddin Apouabout a year ago in Poets
Beyond
Beyond the Sunlit Mountain, there exists A Serene Vista where a heart skips a beat. The sun ascends, casting its Golden touch upon the rugged peaks...
By Antoni De'Leonabout a year ago in Poets