Prose

String
They fling us into this world alone Tell us to look at the wonder to behold Told to seek our hearts desire The one that lights our fire
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Heroes in Hearses. Content Warning.
22 they fought in the sandboxes they were placed in defending the weak driving out shadows and we only saw what big brother
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
A World Without Pages
In this hollowed world, where books never breathed their ink, we craft stories from silence. The map before me, spider-webbed with time,
By Diane Fosterabout a year ago in Poets
Cobwebs in the Corner
I tell everyone who asks ”I’m fine” but there is a room full of unopened boxes and dusty shelves full of unread books.
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Finding Radical Joy
In another world, I am afraid in somebody's basement, surrounded by the blink of purple strobe lights. My heart thumps erratically. The 2010s are so forgettable.
By Kane Howardabout a year ago in Poets
"Get The Trash Out to Bins". Content Warning.
Get The Trash Out to Bins To Never Come Back Again "I" am authoring this poem in first person using "I". This story is not just about me. It reflects our society, and to whomever it resonates with now. "I" am happy with glee.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Wither and Fade
Don’t give me things that wither and fade Give me the grass that has strong blades Give me a song that draws me hither Don’t dither and doubt
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Sylvia Plath (1932–1963): A Profound Voice in Confessional Poetry
Life and Background Sylvia Plath was born on October 27, 1932, in Boston, Massachusetts, to Otto Plath, a German-born professor of entomology, and Aurelia Schober Plath, a second-generation Austrian-American. Her early years were marked by academic brilliance and creativity, but also by emotional challenges. Plath’s father died when she was just eight years old, a loss that deeply affected her and became a recurring theme in her poetry.
By Mr Aliabout a year ago in Poets
Succinct
It started with a smile Sealed with a wink Oh, to be succinct How do you put all your love into one day When it’s as broad as a rainbow
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Not Your Grandma's Knitting
Stab it Wrap it throw it in the grave this is not what my grandma taught me to say when knitting but it makes me laugh
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
The Real Villains. Top Story - January 2025.
You can make me the villain in your story if it helps you sleep better at night just don’t blame me in the morning
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Robert Frost: The Poet of New England’s Heart
Early Life and Influences Frost’s early life was marked by instability and hardship. His father, a journalist and a politically ambitious man, died of tuberculosis when Frost was only 11 years old. This loss prompted the family to move to Lawrence, Massachusetts, to live with Frost’s maternal grandparents. It was in New England, with its rolling landscapes and rural communities, that Frost found his poetic voice. His environment—its woods, fields, and hardworking people—became the backdrop for much of his poetry.
By Mr Aliabout a year ago in Poets