i know mother animal. she been walking under pines since Creation. maybe you seen her painted in ochre? maybe you seen her in Rome.
By Jennifer A. G.9 months ago in Poets
I was born with a throat for fire, not silence. They told me to shrink, to wear softer colors, to love in secret and call it survival.
By Christopher Stiner9 months ago in Poets
No matter how expensive Succulent Opulent And fragrant They may be You'll never smell the flowers on your grave ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Matthew J. Fromm9 months ago in Poets
You're so pretty. Why? Is it because my last meal didn't have any gluten? Or because "carb" is a four-letter word I haven't heard in years?
By Belle9 months ago in Poets
Some days, I wear my ghosts like skin. Not draped, not hidden—stitched, threaded through the quiet hours between what I show and what I survive.
The further one goes, the more one understands what "Dawn Blossoms Plucked at Dusk" means. When you are in your forties
By Luna9 months ago in Poets
There’s a kind of love that doesn’t scream to be heard— it hums beneath the surface, soft and sure. And that’s what this is.
By Annie Edwards 9 months ago in Poets
Lazy days In a daisy haze Whenever I see them I think of you I think of the happy times When life was rough but bearable
By Atomic Historian9 months ago in Poets
A soldier in civvies / an army of one / marched into a pizza joint / brandishing a long gun. His mission for naught / He only fired a single shot /
By Chris Z9 months ago in Poets
i took another pill this morning to try to look people in the eye, but mine filled with tears despite. i looked away because my optimism is waning and
By kp9 months ago in Poets
Uprising begins In beaten minds In imprisoned Prisms of thought Corruption and despotism Cronyism and nepotism Common people
By Roderick Makim9 months ago in Poets
The Colors of Life's Flowers Pain ted on a deep blue backdrop, As if this winding life is veiled in mystery's wrap. Some flowers in a clear vase reside, Like our mistakes woven in varied tide.
By MD Mehedi Hasan fans of Alam Sir.9 months ago in Poets
