Prose

Impulse Purchases
🙋‍♂️“Did you hear a scream?!” 🙋‍♀️ “Yes I was the one who screamed! A mouse just ran across the room from that cabinet! a-a-A mouse!!!”
By VJHD2 years ago in Poets
Trying to Understand
🌸 “I don’t understand it” 🌼 “What’s that?” 🌸 “Why it’s still an issue today” 🌼 “It’s still an issue because people still hurt
By Linda Bromley2 years ago in Poets
Lights Out!
The humming and rattling of the old ceiling fan turned up on high so perfectly compliments the medium-depth of darkness that surrounds my very presence.
By BrettNotGreg2 years ago in Poets
The Stories of Youth
Youth. A time in our lives that is as dazzling as it is fleeting. “Time will always flow. Everything will pass by. That might be why youth is beautiful. It shines, blindingly bright, for just an instant. But you can never go back to it.”
By fleeting.serenics2 years ago in Poets
“JUNE 25, 2024”. Content Warning.
LOOKING THROUGH MY BACK PAGES IS THE THEME NO SCHEME JUST SEEMS THE THING TO DO. Here it is 2015. Christmas eve. Happy Holidays to everyone and Merry Christmas and all that jazz. Have a prosperous New Year. May we be in the mood for peace and love instead of hate. May we learn to love each other as human beings. May we learn to not always be at war.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 years ago in Poets
Sticks & Stones
Sticks and stones don't break bones but words can break a soul ... ask me how I know. You said you were a good man said you always do what you can
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
Old News
She always liked the boys in school, who never loved her but looked so cool, but that's old news... or is it? She always talked and drank too much
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
Art
So…sure is wet out. Don't do that Don't do what? Talk about the weather? Don't pretend like either of us cares about mundane shit.
By Obsidian Words2 years ago in Poets
Goods broken would be considered sold
The stake of existence in its tale binds the beauty of the true, The theft of commodification of invaded privacy hid the Bane of silence under its sinew
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
The Garden's Little Architect
In the quiet dawn, before the sun, The garden wakes, its day begun. Amidst the blooms and emerald leaves, A tiny worker weaves and weaves.
By OptimalEdge2 years ago in Poets
Whispers in the Mist
Caught in a haze, I wander through a mental maze, Thoughts drift like autumn leaves, Silent whispers that deceive.
By OptimalEdge2 years ago in Poets
THEY DO NOT LIVE HERE!
. THEY DO NOT LIVE HERE! By Ross E F Lombardi. . "This Cat?" "This Cat is not ours" "This Cat does not really live here..."
By Ross E Fortune Lombardi2 years ago in Poets