vintage

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

Chapstick
I studied a picture of us, the last one we ever took and I tasted blood, the crimson memories of your teeth sinking into my shoulders
By Daniel Kabout a year ago in Poets
Whispers Of a Teenage tale
That young age of Innocence and wonder When ignorance cloaked the bittersweet future Leaving fairytales to end with Happily Ever Afters
By Ezaabout a year ago in Poets
A Call to Resilience
When the laughter rings and the words cut deep, You sit in silence, letting your fears creep. Before the blows, find strength to fight,
By Archan Pandaabout a year ago in Poets
On healing in gallant echoes
I ponder over the hues of the zealous beauty of the sky, In the yonder of nothingness, time in its mirth passes by. The heavens and the earth, the kindness and the ugliness both coincide with their fate,
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Poets
A KINGDOM DIVIDED.. Content Warning.
Spiritual warfare we’ve long fought, Since ancient times, from traditions birthed deep in the soil, When our ancestors bowed to gods of clay and fire.
By Marvelous Michaelabout a year ago in Poets
Sensory Key/Time-Jump Alchemy
My thoughts, they always wander to you, to—the memory of your love—how it felt, unconditional-non-judgemental. The warmth of your embrace, left cheek, right cheek kiss and a strong sense of belonging to something beyond my own mortal shell.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
Sunshine
Driving Radio on Another poem Another stupid line Because you are my sunshine The thing that keeps me from losing my mind
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Weight
Strapped in my vest The weight crushing my chest Why does life always feel like a test Trapped in the vestments of life
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
ASLEEP
I can't see your exquisite body. I can't touch your soft skin. I can't smell your essence. I can't taste your sweet kiss.
By Babs Iversonabout a year ago in Poets
Deviled Eggs
The deviled eggs on my legs smell Of the half-elves from hell that have sprung from their shell To quell the chaos between summer and Christmas
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Whispers from Yesterday: Poems of Historical Moments
In the vastness of the sea, where the winds whisper secrets, A colossal shape emerges, forged from iron and will. The ocean quakes beneath its weight, a monument to power,
By Anthony Michaelabout a year ago in Poets
Pionta Guinness, le do thoil
Ol' Arthur comes to mind as I echo the words of many before me, "Pionta Guinness, le do thoil," and watch the black stuff, the wine of Ireland, fill the curved harp-etched glass.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets