Prose

the scavenger's daughter
i poison roses into shriveled sentiments i should appreciate while they thrive; instead, i wonder how anyone could like a dustheap, a magpie
By melancholy galaxiesabout a year ago in Poets
Sleepless Gifts. Top Story - August 2024.
Still nights, when insomnia and imagination coalesce, I find myself a captive audience to the Intone. The white noise suffuses every inch, every corner, every pore. Sit in "silence" now. Go on, turn off your
By kpabout a year ago in Poets
The Fog of War
The Fog of War We stand on ceremonies to sleep through the night Sable skies alight With fireworks in flight.
By Chris Zabout a year ago in Poets
A Little Break
A little slip through the cracks It's too easy Because when the world smothers Liquidates, and your bones turn to jelly It's hard not to
By Belleabout a year ago in Poets
Willing
Joy is a willing thing if you are patient enough to look for her. You can find her in the wafts of steam swirling over
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Where Does the Trash Go
Where does the trash go Down into the depths Or off to the shallows We will never know It leaves our home for the curb
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Our Story
A big noise made us, and water and DNA to let the dinosaurs out-mammal us out of Bronze, Iron, Religion ages; taking over, learning, discovering
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Poets
le familier inconnu
Qu’est-ce que mon cœur ressent que ma tête n’accepte pas ? / La peur est-elle le médiateur entre les deux ou la logique ?
By Soulabout a year ago in Poets
Rebel
I will not comply I will never fit into the confines of a box you cannot force a star into a square or a round
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Sunset Drive
Driving along Highway 1, the car moved steadily on the winding mountain road. Vancouver was long behind me, and the bustling city had been replaced by rugged hills and the crisp, cool mountain air. The setting sun cast a warm golden light through the trees, painting the road with a soft glow. My destination was Saskatchewan, but before that, I’d be passing Kamloops Lake, a place I had once imagined visiting with you many times.
By SHENLANBAIabout a year ago in Poets
The End
The end of one world Is the beginning of another Like a child Slipping from its mother Life is a journey Of yearning We used to live
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
She
Everything about her was a lie. She wore a mask to hide the pain, to hide the urge to scream and tell the world that she just wanted to fit in. Why? she ask, why God, you make me so different and unique. She thinks that it is a flaw but she doesn't know that it is the greatest gift of her that I know. Her crooked smile, her big doe eyes, her dark brown freckles, her 'heavy' thighs. God, she is gorgeous And I am blessed that she is mine and my love, I say to her, I hope one day you see yourself through my eyes....
By Prasidhi Agarwalabout a year ago in Poets