Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
It seems to me that you know just what to say, But words are not actions, can you make things right. When they chose to attack, what made you turn your back?
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Poets
Growing up makes you look back and realize How seductive childhood is. Remember all the glistening sea turtles Crawling across the beach,
By Zane Aquaman3 years ago in Poets
swimming deep into the depths of my salty heart climbing out of the abyss that is my brain scratching deep down to my bones
By Lace Cole3 years ago in Poets
Just vote There’s no knife to your throat Just vote Who cares if you can afford your child’s new coat Just vote We need a new boat
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
The illusions of life become the imaginations of the soul. Where is that lost piece of divinity man is constantly searching for;
By Susan Downs3 years ago in Poets
If Sade can be referred to as "the Divine Marquis," then perhaps we could refer to Rimbaud as the "Divine Brat" (Genet might well be the "Divine Wastrel," and Artaud the "Divine Madman"). At any rate, on his 168th birthday, it is meet and good to celebrate this "troubled soul" (as Edmund White so named him).
By Tom Baker3 years ago in Poets
Silence is the most deafening sound, Sometimes I wish I would sink to the ground. Wish you would say something even if to chide,
Who remembers playing with blocks? What a way to learn. All the colors and shapes, Red, green, blue, purple, and yellow,
By Mark Graham3 years ago in Poets
I still think about when it was just me and you… Filled with glee, in our pinks and blues... Green, ever since my Aunt Kelly departed this world...
By Oscar Wilson3 years ago in Poets
November 25th, in the middle of the night, I conquered my mother’s uterus, though it was a good fight. With my earthside appearance, I became sibling number four,
By Shanon Canuto3 years ago in Poets
I. I do not love you now, O narrow heart, that had no heights but pride! You, whom mine fed; to whom yours still denied
By k eleanor3 years ago in Poets
I will drown in their refreshin’ juices tiny bits of seeds on my tongue, teeth, lips the palate relishes its finesse fete
By Moon Desert3 years ago in Poets
