vintage

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

My Joy
Caught in this joy—it overpowers me, Lifted from chains, I’ve been set free. Like iron fetters falling from the freed, They’ve been thrown off, cast into the sea.
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Poets
The Man and the Boy
Two twisted, broken things lay on his bed. He sat there pitifully, and cried, “They’re dead!” I could not understand what made him cry.
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Poets
You, from the future
I promise you whether the boy you liked in middle school smiled at you or not, won’t matter when you’re twenty years old I promise the words they spit at you won’t matter when you’re twenty one
By Layla Abubakar4 years ago in Poets
In the Darkness of Night. Top Story - September 2021.
My father fought in World War II. He was seriously injured during a major battle in the South Pacific. A grenade landed in his foxhole killing his best friend and filling him with shrapnel. He very rarely spoke of his wartime experience, but in the evenings, when we would be sitting quietly you could feel the burden was still with him. During the night he would often have the same nightmare, you could hear him fighting that battle, always waking up with the grenade landing in the foxhole. Growing up I heard that nightmare hundreds of times.
By Steve Lance4 years ago in Poets
Biscuits & Gravy
Door opens, bell chimes, feet are wiped on the buff- colored bristle carpet, jacket is removed at the 'Please Wait to be Seated' ;
By Alyssa Graveline4 years ago in Poets
{Sunday} Afternoon (Forever Afternoon)
The drive home is short, with windows down and voices high, full of love and good news as only HE would have intended. Breath heavy with the scent of overly sugared burnt coffee. Gossip and Gospel still ringing in our ears.
By LJ Smith4 years ago in Poets
wHOMEsome
Home is where the heart is, At least that’s what they say, To each and every person Born here day-to-day. A homey-ness we all so crave
By J.Bee4 years ago in Poets
ISBILTUR
Home is New Jersey. Birthplace. Jersey Girl forever. Down the shore we go. A smooth, ivory swirl, rests upon a large tree bark colored cone. Before my tongue can feel that first icy burn, vanilla drips on my new Granimal shirt. Charcoal scented air floats on warm July breezes. In a few hours, lightning bugs will make their debut, setting summer skies aglow. Childhood magic.
By Kelly Girnas4 years ago in Poets
Babinski
Babinski? Ho! Do I know him? Why ask such questions on a whim? He’s never angry, never cruel… Of course, he only had a duel.
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Poets
1977
1977 Three days on, three days off Three nights on, three nights off Each shift twelve hours Christmas included The life of a firefighter
By Lynn Henschel4 years ago in Poets
Freedom's Fight
Brother’s in the army, They took the cows away, And Mother’s working on the farm, But Willie’s here to stay. It gets so lonesome quiet like
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Poets
Yotrrundork Snythconfounded
“All the ground was wet and cold, And those that traveled were young and old. Of all who came, there was one so bold... One so bold,
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Poets