Villanelle

Echoes of a Silent Heart
Introduction: The Sound of What We Never Say Silence has its own language. It lingers in the spaces between words, in the pauses where our hearts ache but our voices fail. A silent heart does not mean an empty one—it means a heart that carries longing so heavy it cannot always be spoken aloud.
By Nadeem Shah 5 months ago in Poets
Mother Mushroom And Her Children
Introduction I follow The Enchanted Booklet on Facebook and often use the images that they share as inspiration for stories.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 months ago in Poets
The First
You were the first The first I could trust with my heart Now the world is tearing us apart And I don’t know what to do
By Atomic Historian5 months ago in Poets
Tick, Tock
Tock, tock - tick, tock... the time goes by so slow; I watch the clock. * An annoying knock and its creepy echo...
By Krysha Thayer5 months ago in Poets
Thalassophile
Introduction I saw this image on Facebook on the link below, and I have many friends who love mermaids, and I thought this would be a perfect subject for a villanelle.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 months ago in Poets
Queue is a Ridiculous Word
Queue is a ridiculous word Its one letter followed by four silent others Perhaps that makes sense The one in the front is ordering
By Atomic Historian5 months ago in Poets
The Sacred Place
Introduction This is my sixtieth piece inspired by Angie Livingstone's inspirational artwork. This is her Facebook Page
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 months ago in Poets
What’s in a Name?
Don’t worry You’re not to blame For I have gone by many a name Three last names Just my first Just my last Sometimes a man, sometimes a woman
By Atomic Historian5 months ago in Poets
The Coffee is Still Hot
The coffee is still hot, though I am gone. The porch light hums, a moth trapped in its glare. You said you’d follow, but I walked alone.
By Aspen Noble5 months ago in Poets
Fragile, Broken. Content Warning.
My mind and body fragile, broken by hands once loved… then violence. Through pain and grief, I’m born again. * To heal, I turn to paper, pen,
By Krysha Thayer5 months ago in Poets
Aquarius
Thighs quaking Knees shaking Carrying my jar of clay everyday Arms locked in desperation Imperceptible fatigue as my ribs dig into my spleen
By Atomic Historian5 months ago in Poets
The Search
I’ve searched for you in the ocean I’ve searched for you in the skies I’ve searched for you in other’s eyes I’ve searched for you all our lives
By Atomic Historian5 months ago in Poets