Ode

Perfume
Sensualized here; shade, rustle under over, scent shared in twilight. The Great Gets Me... * Thank you for reading!
By Kendall Defoe 4 months ago in Poets
Autumn Feels
Hot coffee, warm hands Steamy mornings and window mist Smiles drawn and wiped away Swirling winds, wild whistles Creaks and groans from a changing home
By Simon George4 months ago in Poets
Don’t Call Her Weak
Back in February I shared a poem,When We Don’t Have the Words, about being awake at 1 a.m needing to pray for a friend, and in the past few months, as we have fellowshipped and prayed together and shared our stories more I understand why!
By Michelle Renee Kidwell4 months ago in Poets
September 24, 2010
sitting in the deepest hole there is no more place for me to go i wandered the streets waiting for a sign but on this one way path
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Poets
Price of Liberty
A single shot across the stage, not from a battlefield, but a campus wall. The crowd gasped … some in grief, others in silence,
By Cadma4 months ago in Poets
Admiring Orchestras
8/12/25 11:51pm I don’t think I’ll ever learn to play violin, or Write something that sounds like a crescendo The way I hear it in my head,
By Olivia Dodge4 months ago in Poets
Ghost
I am becoming see-through, a watercolor left too long in rain, bleeding at the edges where I used to be solid, certain, mine.
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Poets
Strength in Solitude
There are nights when the silence feels alive. Not empty — not hollow — but breathing, whispering, moving through the air like a tide I cannot see.
By Farid Aslam4 months ago in Poets
Pebbles
Waddling down the beach of life The chill in our bones She squawks I listen In the distance the sun glistens into darkness
By Atomic Historian4 months ago in Poets
Sit With Me
At my table you will find bits and pieces; colorful as a bag of skittles For my favorite are the dull and mundane, dripping in rainbow
By Pōlani Monderen 4 months ago in Poets
The Old Days
Sometimes when I'm just not present I hear voices and think it's still back in the day in our old neighbourhood and life is just the way it was for so long.
By Janet Theny4 months ago in Poets
We Are Not the Same
Beneath the old oak’s fading shade, Children ran, and laughter stayed. Streams would sing with washing hands, Men would play, and hearts would dance.
By Life Hopes4 months ago in Poets