Prose

The Haunting
Shadowed fingers of memory trace my name on your pillow as you dream. Skeletons of memories are playing hide and seek with your demons
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Tread Lightly
11 o clock sun my face tilting, eager to feel the light across the wisp of skin that form my eyelids… An orange glow
By Michele Nampalliabout a year ago in Poets
My Immortal Dog — A Love Story. Top Story - January 2025.
Shiva You were the light of my life and the love of my soul. Coming from the shelter many years ago, we both embarked on a journey unlike any other I have ever known.
By Ute Luppertz ✨ about a year ago in Poets
I Didn’t Watch The Ball Drop
We put our kid to bed at 9, and then, me and my wife followed shortly after instead of pushing ourselves like two adults watching their youth die slowly. Ordinarily I would make a huge thing about the new year. I think most years I needed it to be new. I wanted to believe so badly that we can get a fresh start or reset the beginning of every new year.
By Dan-O Vizziniabout a year ago in Poets
"A FLOWER STORY FOR EVERYONE!"
This is a poem about flowers, roses, and you all as you tread your roads of life of unicorns, & flowers. I always stop and smell the roses!
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
s.o.c. 9
They backlit you in cobalt blue after they clad you in a pale prison uniform, the lens as static and stable as your state. The colors clash, your muddled costume a mirror of your mind.
By Wen Xiaoshengabout a year ago in Poets
The Process
I write my soul To process things outside my control Not everything felt is good It may feel good But some are just a welt
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Happy New Year's
A new year is born, A blank slate, so clean and pure, Fresh journal awaits. * Resolutions made Bygone promises renewed
By Mother Combsabout a year ago in Poets
One last thing
if I could spend eternity in agony Restless with agony, oh yes, that recipe for me would be The best part of the color that created our very ancient atoms
By Melissa Ingoldsbyabout a year ago in Poets
Oblivious
Sometimes it’s better to be oblivious Than to be fully aware of the insidiousness that surrounds us Sometimes it’s better to shut one’s eyes
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
History’s Tapestry—Teaches
Excuse after excuse. Recuse after blood-drenched recuse. Pardon after soul-raping pardon. When will it stop? When will erasure stop? How many bodies, how many lives must be wilfully, strategically, unjustifiably broken—ceased? Cyclical cynicism after catastrophic cyclical cynicism. Yet—humanity fails. Humanity fails—to learn. Learn the life-sacrificing lesson that history's treacherous tapestry—teaches.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
Constellations
I trace the sky with my fingertips, Searching for the patterns you left behind. Each star a memory, a fragment of us,
By llaurren's readsabout a year ago in Poets