Stream of Consciousness

a place I have never seen before
comes to me in my dreams vines to hair coins to eyes glittering gold in the gutter where dreams continue to shine even in our waking life
By G.S Hasckleabout a month ago in Poets
sorrows
I relinquish my sorrow from my heart through my lips & into this river blanketed grief no longer holds me down it will forever be apart of me
By G.S Hasckleabout a month ago in Poets
Pure struck with a snowdrop and bit of a luck!
Pure as white, and gentle at sight, Luck descends in crimson shine. Upon the bloom, so small, so bright, Hope awakens in the morning light.
By C.M.about a month ago in Poets
And there was Light!
And there was light, Breaking the silence of endless night. Shadows fled, creation started its whirred, Hope was spoken, and life was bestowed!
By C.M.about a month ago in Poets
𝒀𝒆𝒂, 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌
Tear me in half rip me apart break me small wring my heart dry scatter me far but I won't stay there it's not how I was made
By Colleen Waltersabout a month ago in Poets
How to Experience Fear:
Fear arrives like a switch, no prelude, no drumroll, just the body stopping. Dead lights on the road of the mind, eyes wide, breath glued to the ribs,
By Tennessee Garbageabout a month ago in Poets
The Text Drafts
My Notes app is a museum of almosts— rooms full of sentences that never learned how to leave. ﹁﹂ One starts with “hey,”
By Milan Milicabout a month ago in Poets
Human angels
They are like angels dressed in the nothingness of everyday life. Their brightness fills every chaos and deafness, entering the silence of the mind without saying anything. With a smile and a glance, they say more than anyone else after hours of conversation or lectures. They enter the soul and purify it. Their sound is the most delicate particle of existence that a human being can perceive. , and she carries information for the youngest to make their lives better and for the oldest to make their lives better. She believes and acts, she does not introduce doubt, she gives faith and strength, she does not squeeze, but teaches by herself and her work, giving herself completely but not forgetting about herself.
By Darkosabout a month ago in Poets
Meticulously, step by step, piece by piece,
Meticulously, step by step, piece by piece, she put herself back together again, the last days, months, weeks, the best moments of hope always cut something that could not be put into words, adding problems to problems, growing to such an extent that confusion and excess became part of her reality, which she had to pick up, gather into one and dispel every difficult task and problem.
By Darkosabout a month ago in Poets
It was not love, it was a disease
Maybe she recognized him, but pretended that she was no longer there, that all those memories and experiences had turned her into someone he would never know again. The last flame of love, lit a year ago, full of hope, continued to toss her life left and right, straight ahead, until suddenly it fell inexorably to the ground and said, “Enough, this will never happen again.” Your chosen one will never happen. It is a walking illusion of hatred towards yourself and others. The fire went out forever, the flames died down, and she never spoke to her again.
By Darkosabout a month ago in Poets
Public Notice
I will lead you down a path you don't want to take in search of the signs of hope you desire . Because I can . I am no prophet Le disruptor . Taking liberties With poetic formula . Like a prick at a sorority party Profane meeting with virginal pristineness Taking beauty and warping grinding it down . Where for art thou . The poem That poem The one that will be remembered For hundreds of years . I am many things but not Ozymandias . A cultural heathen with literary smarts I abuse at every turn . No easy rhymes Never the most elegant . Filidh makar Bard to some Leader and visionary to others . I think therefore I burden you with whatever comes forth when I think— more than greater than, always more than equal to. . (it) Being the subject brings me back to you. . You— being the recipient.Start writing...
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Poets
Dreams of Sand Seas
Scaled eyes flutter open from Deadened nighttime slumber Only to discover Onto a beach I’ve been transferred Sun beating down in time to my heart
By K.B. Silver about a month ago in Poets