Prose

Lillie
How far must I search for you? Where am I to seek you? Truly—where do the lost ones go? I am searching for you, while you journey into nothingness.
By Nicole Moore29 days ago in Poets
A Spring in Your Eyes
Your Tears What pure emotions they are… Your tears rise like a clear spring bursting from the heart of a hardened mountain;
By Nicole Moore29 days ago in Poets
Her, in Fire
Fire is no match for her. Inside her, lava flows. It roars and burns, turns being into ash, drives existence into nothingness.
By Nicole Moore29 days ago in Poets
Quiet Work of Becoming
I used to believe that becoming a writer would arrive with a sound—trumpets, perhaps, or at least a clean click, like a lock finally turning. I imagined a day when the doubt would lift its coat from the back of my chair and leave the room for good. Instead, it stayed. It learned my habits. It brewed coffee. It read over my shoulder.
By Luna Vani29 days ago in Poets
Upside-down Mouse
“The Broken Finger Story is not just about pain it is the comic checkpoint that softened the gloom. What started as a rupture turned into sovereign wit, reframing doom into laughter. I have now recorded it in my personal archive as a ceremony, a reminder that even pauses can ignite new passion.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 29 days ago in Poets
making gardens out of silence
No words come from my mouth And still, something is growing Making gardens out of silence Planting, without knowing
By Gail Fredricksabout a month ago in Poets
Yellow. Honorable Mention in The Last Flame Challenge.
I went to my thesaurus to find a word, a word I could use in place of yellow. I was trying to write a poem
By Gerry Thibeaultabout a month ago in Poets
Quiet Heat
The Way I Begin to Burn I don’t react. I register. The moment you enter my space, something beneath my calm leans forward—
By M.maxabout a month ago in Poets
Incarcerated Brothers, Maybe Broooothers, Like Brothers Brothers
I'm GAY! Not the funny type of gay! The real, gay, the gay gay shit! Well, it started when my father wasn't able to tell me he loved me! Then my mother left me on a door-step of another neighbor! Real TOUGH shit! I got like 10 baby momma's! Some horse radish ice-cream, but truth be told, I kind of needed some pillow talk time! I needed "SEX"! Not a person, who could "PROVIDE" sex... Nah, just sex. I needed "MONEY"! Not a person, who could "PROVIDE" money... Nah, just money. So this is the last time I'm telling you...
By 365poetry - "Holy Trinity":::: I Know The Cross, It's The Spirit Of Kharôn Latin Spelling (Charon) Translation "Fierce Brightness"about a month ago in Poets
Morning Keeps the Change
Change is the rumor that turned out to be true, the one tenant that never quits the lease, and yet we keep acting like it just moved in yesterday. We ask for it at the ballot box, at the mirror, in whispered prayers, then flinch when it starts rearranging the furniture of our days. This is me trying to get honest about how we live as both magnet and shield toward it, how we court it, resist it, and slowly turn into it in all the shapes it takes.
By Richard Patrick Gageabout a month ago in Poets
the spark extinguishing. Content Warning.
vibrant and saturated the colors of a true heart never fade gradients arrange and repeat the values lay broken a square of earth down ten feet
By ⸘jason alan‽about a month ago in Poets
the roots of reverie
our love was a sapling, thin-stemmed, fragile, poised in quiet confidence. it was indescribable, the bliss i felt, growing in your taciturn nature.
By Daniel Kabout a month ago in Poets