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The Essence of being
Alive? What does it mean to be alive? To be alive is to have a purpose. To be alive is to be ambitious. To be alive is the ability to walk my life's path.
By Anu's Quillabout a year ago in Poets
Election 2024
In the year of twenty-twenty-four, America stood at the ballot door, With voices raised and choices clear, For a future shaped by hope and fear.
By Taviii🇨🇦♐️about a year ago in Poets
Patchwork Quilt of Snow
I have no obligations Just pajamas and a book A cup of tea is steaming Cozy in my favorite nook Jack Frost is busy painting
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Poets
Earth Mother
I walked barefooted, I felt the earth beneath— That warm and cold feeling, This intimate yet foreign feeling, Makes me feel connected.
By Anu's Quillabout a year ago in Poets
Iudicium Temporis
In the end, nothing will be left but our work, the proof of our existence, through the passage of time. They say time is like a river,
By Anu's Quillabout a year ago in Poets
A Field of Gems
I wake and exhale and watch the steam curl from your mouth Like dragon smoke, it clouds the ceiling of our shitty tent The rising sun dips everything in gold
By Sam Spinelliabout a year ago in Poets
A Fragmented Future
You want a story of hope? Of innovation? Are you tone deaf to what’s happening in this nation Are you completely unaware of the situation?
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
The Snake Woman
The Snake Woman There was a woman, she was a snake, With a heart so cold, and a smile fake. She slithered through life, deceit in her wake,
By Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Ninth Clerihew
Nzinga Queen of Matamba and Ndongo, now known as Angola. When the colonizer cried, "Em chamada!" She taught them they could not carve her up as well as she beat herself into history's blackwood, and she taught me resistance is a semba dance, defiance a balance
By Wen Xiaoshengabout a year ago in Poets
The Mist
There I was, In the early hours, Walking in the woods. It crept onto me, Like a leopard looking to hunt. The silent whispers had me tranquil,
By Anu's Quillabout a year ago in Poets
The Curse and the Gift
Death—a common yet shrouded mystery, Like a tiger, always lurking beside its prey. When the time comes, it takes; It cares not for you,
By Anu's Quillabout a year ago in Poets
Dawn’s Quiet Pursuit
In the gentle hush of dawn’s first light, Birds chip softly, a melody slight. Cool breezes dance through leaves awake, As people gather, for health’s own sake.
By mureed hussainabout a year ago in Poets