Poetry: In the hush of night, he stands alone, A soul half-lost, in silence grown. Smoke spirals like forgotten dreams, Woven through moon's silver beams.
By Fazal Malik6 months ago in Poets
A spoken word poet is known for paragraphs— Spoken by a man who stood for something and still stands. I’m a closed circuit. Only one laughs.
By K.A. Smith6 months ago in Poets
On the curve of night, where silence bends, A soul sits still as the dark transcends. Upon a branch that dares to dream, He rides the hush of moonlight’s beam.
I. The Dawn of Breath From silence sprung a whisper deep, Where stars and soil in cradle sleep, A breath was drawn, the first of flame,
I am from Ajax, from floor mops and cleaning cloths I am from the holes punched in the wall (Gaping, unsightly, unhappy fractions and the tastes of blood)
By Chantal Christie Weiss6 months ago in Poets
Petals Against the Silence By Sahil’s Reflection She leans on stone that does not feel, A mask of time, so cold, so real.
Fromm the moment I read the first thing I read by the elven warrior, I was struck by his commitment to his craft and care for facts.
By Paul Stewart6 months ago in Poets
A bleeding pen, a rusted over knife – instruments of an architect of life, for mine was never one gifted or grown, but forged in fire, built from blood and bone.
By Lizzy Rose6 months ago in Poets
She walks with grace, no crown she wears, yet queens could kneel— Before her stare, Her hands are worn— from work and care,
By Muhammad Abdullah6 months ago in Poets
I've been meaning to express— admiration doesn't quite cut it I've been deeming it necessary— adoration seems extreme a bit
Red-suited devil— don’t hear you. Metal. White-suited devil— don’t hear you. Metal. Blue-suited devil— don’t hear you, too.
I’m a stranger in a strange land The fan chugga chugga chugs As it blows away paper thugs The world shrugs As we slink like slugs
By Atomic Historian6 months ago in Poets
