Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
The music isn't as harsh as it should be And the grating flavor of the Marlboro Reds are sweet Besides the fizz of Cherry Monster,
By Silver Daux2 years ago in Poets
Hard raindrops splattered on my face. Squelch, squelch went my soggy shoes. What horrendously bad luck. I keep walking, my head down,
By Isla Griswald2 years ago in Poets
THE YOUNG WIDOW Her last promise +++++++++++++++++++++++ FOR PT, MY BFF ++++++++++++++++++++++
By Margaret Brennan2 years ago in Poets
I look down At my hands And they seem so small. I can't stop the bombs From falling, I can't stop This fire;
By Bex Jordan2 years ago in Poets
indurate soul—stone, steel, and bones. i clash against your edges scouring for empathy. but brine does not drip from ironclad.
By Kristen Balyeat2 years ago in Poets
Or, her confusion at and simultaneous desire to remain unnoticed. I know a girl, likes to blend in with the wallpaper always holding up the fourth wall
By ♡2 years ago in Poets
Your bioluminescence stopped my heartbeats. Eyes of fireflies: coasts of ardor / foreign dreams. As one, we plucked oysters from the
By Gina C.2 years ago in Poets
Even the Kleenex on the table is mocking me tonight. Urging me to wipe my eyes. Begging me to cry. But my heart has dried. And I’ll not
By Cathy holmes2 years ago in Poets
I felt like my heart had so much to say early this morning, and out came this poem. 🩵 (Ethereal) My ethereal mind could no longer feel…
By Zakari Runge2 years ago in Poets
He walks through the door in a rain coat with tears streaming down his tanned cheeks "I know" I say curled up from my spot on the couch
By Bria Lamonica2 years ago in Poets
It's an understatement to call it the naked truth Whereas it nakens inferior parts of us that have been scorched by the naked truth. I'm entitled to the gratitude of these thoughts They help keep me entertained While pain is the most forced about Entertainment of ages that our hearts keep being glued too. Why do I try to run away from something that knows my end to finish? I'm troubled by the past that keeps on predicting my future. Having a good heart only led me astray But - why is it still Dawn? If I've got guardian angels watching over me Bottled up emotions turned to ashes Meant to be thrown away into the ocean. Trying to revive the energy of my living being I'm stuck between knowing our failures and rewriting better explanations for old mistakes. The explicit bandage exposing our wounds has us feeling dead while we're told to - Breath. If hell really exists then going to heaven would be my greatest sin I'm not fond around people that try to justify the good things one can achieve if they follow the - Word. The word is what you make of it And I've not only lost hope but the real definition seems to have lost it's meaning. But here is another word with a crucified meaning - Why Is It Still Dawn?
By Irvin 2 years ago in Poets
ends always come too soon or too late. in my dreams I hold a torch and bare foot on watery floor, mourning each night, I am
By R.C. Taylor2 years ago in Poets
