Gypsy cupped Client’s hand in her own and read the palm. Stars encircled the crown of Client’s head, a large beating heart
By Andrea Corwin 2 years ago in Poets
You never wear the same socks, You wear two colours instead, You love those paint covered Jeans, They were made to fit your means!
By Carol Ann Townend2 years ago in Poets
pen knifed by night I stir, removing myself from the warm curl of your snore risking wrestling your dream soldiers to answer
By Christy Munson2 years ago in Poets
The sky is painted with a slightly grey overcast. There is some obnoxious species of bird singing away outside of my window.
By BrettNotGreg2 years ago in Poets
I felt it then, as I feel it now Rain dancing across my skin Like your kisses gently being placed across my body Its smell, your scent
By Mercedes Chavez2 years ago in Poets
Mothers We bear the burden, take the blame and get none of the credit. We lose sleep, worry and wear the wrinkles.
By Cynthia Fields2 years ago in Poets
v e n i t And so, as I face the final curtain... I wish for my hyperbolic musings on stonework etchings on a wall behind the Mona Lisa, under the toilets in the Duomo, or shadowing The Creation of Adam
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
You’re at the corner of the bar, Holding the same tulip-shaped glass of whiskey With the crutch of your hand, Swirling it in smooth circular movements I always tried but failed to imitate.
By T. Licht2 years ago in Poets
In the midst of chaos and clutter, Lies a sword, a pepper shaker, and homework. A trio of objects, each with its own story to tell.
By M2 years ago in Poets
Searching for the right tribes in thick clouds that block light Getting lost on a one-way street with toxic fog and foul fumes
By Chloe Gilholy2 years ago in Poets
Life is an adventure with many detours that can inspire and challenge us. The emphasis of this poem moves from life’s chaos to its beauty in its unpredictability.
By Kamal O. Touhami2 years ago in Poets
A near dying attempt yields to blissful wide awakenings before mortally reaching his highest of glory. Groups of expressive coincidences preserving purifying longings.
By Valerie Lyles2 years ago in Poets
