vintage

Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.

POEM - The Weight Of Splendor
Beneath the sky of burning gold, Where dawn unwraps its hues untold, I walked alone through morning's fire, With heart both heavy and desire.
By Jacky Kapadia7 months ago in Poets
POEM - Captured Starlight
In a hollowed jar on a windowsill, Where shadows sleep and time stands still, I trapped the glow of the distant night, A trembling beam of captured starlight.
By Jacky Kapadia7 months ago in Poets
The Last Vote
Ethan Clarke’s hands trembled as he gripped the cold metal railing of his balcony. Below, the streets buzzed with the fading cheers from his election rally. At twenty-eight, he was the youngest provincial assembly member ever elected from his district — a victory that surprised even his closest supporters.
By Arshad khan7 months ago in Poets
All the Things Found & Forgotten
June 26: Temporal Inventory Records - Catalog secondhand objects with their attached timeline fragments. Include detailed provenance for each item’s emotional history. Use both retail and historical terminology. Consider how objects carry multiple stories simultaneously. End with finding an object that connects past and future. - Daily Poetry Writing Prompts 2025
By Oneg In The Arctic7 months ago in Poets
Vine Fetters
I walked through a vineyard once; the vines’ branches snagged my feet. Trapped, shunned, and stunned, visualizing my helpless fall.
By Moon Desert7 months ago in Poets
Transcorporeal
Electric rocks hallucinating in vain To further the destruction of the primate brain The veils of reality being burned To turn the world into a paradise of false profits
By Atomic Historian7 months ago in Poets
Milestones
Stones standing vigil Witness one destination Not lush adventures I’ve always been fond of the quest tale; enthralled with the idea that simply going to look for the Holy Grail was worthwhile even if you didn’t find it. Milestones are important measures–Hell, I have an entire business plan built out with month over month metrics I need to aim for in this writing endeavor, but it’s important to remember that, while they’re undeniably important, milestones often end up as dull bits of stone along the much wider road. Let them be your guides, not your destinations. The list of places to go in life always ends at six feet under. Take a second and enjoy the spaces in between.
By Matthew J. Fromm7 months ago in Poets
A Letter to the Thundercloud
Emerald-strewn, the sacred pool lies still, Where golden lotuses, in bloom, arise— Their stems, smooth rods of chrysoberyl,
By Dipayan Biswas7 months ago in Poets
Missed Connections
1) Starbucks; Newport Beach, CA: Your hair was too blond, your tan too bronze, your teeth too white, and your tits too big. You spoke in infantile squeaks, and ended sentences, both declarative and interrogative alike, with verbal curtsies. You sent your order back thrice. I was the hairy-chested, gin-blossomed Palm Beach prick in the salmon polo shouting at the mousey 16YO cashier over sold-out scones. I'm a moneyed malignant narcissist in the market for a purely transactional relationship. I pronounce “w” words with an “h” preface. I drive my Tesla like I just left a 3-martini lunch, which is often the case. Of course, “TRUMP” bumper stickers adorn it. Stick around, you’re sure to see a COP kick my ass when I try to impose my “master of the universe” delusion upon him as he's cuffing me for DUI.
By Chris Z7 months ago in Poets
No Face
I’m a man with no name No face My mind disconnected My heart lost in space A fantastic phantom animating atoms Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historian7 months ago in Poets
You-16
So many days I wept over you You thought I leapt over you But in reality I didn’t know what to do My heart has been kept by you
By Atomic Historian7 months ago in Poets
Regression
My eyes are bleary, my head — heavy. I tried not once, but thrice to compose myself, to fight the tide, to compose the words for the
By Paul Stewart7 months ago in Poets