Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Even on days such as this, your name tugs at my tongue. Clairvoyance would surmise that your presence in my head is your mirror.
By Skylar Callahan2 years ago in Poets
Pale Cheshire grin cracks black velvet indicative of some celestial cheekiness - what mischief does this silver eye spy
By Sara Little2 years ago in Poets
After a long, busy week, Here I am. It is Saturday morning. I am alone. Resting. My window is open. A fresh breeze. There are a few light rain showers outdoors.
By Gloria Penelope2 years ago in Poets
Each summer the bright feathers fade Change renders vibrancy to gray Lake or land bound for lack of flight Incapacity at first sight
By D.K. Shepard2 years ago in Poets
I have no real confidence. I watch “success” after “success” After “success” and finally feel As if there is hope. Hope to succeed again.
By Test2 years ago in Poets
My line of work involves a lot of time communicating across languages through an app, telephone service, or my new friend José.
By Gabriel Huizenga2 years ago in Poets
Eventually I came to realize love is not for me. It overshadows all else, posing as this thing to be adored, silencing the calls of the world.
By Kari McLeese2 years ago in Poets
Ever sinking deeper deeper Certain of the end pray sooner Life for me no longer meaning Inner terrors demons pricking Pyre of flames my flesh receding
By Raymond G. Taylor2 years ago in Poets
Elaborate birthday Celebrations have nothing on the Likes of this one. I get to blow out the sun, the Perfect gift. Satisfying a long held
By Meagan Dion2 years ago in Poets
Everything stops Curious animals look to the sky Lunar position defies expectation Innocence is lost in the dark Power like that must come from a god
By Leslie Writes2 years ago in Poets
woefully unprepared with my mouth full of famine, hands empty but my future beyond March when the nights leave with no warning
By Mesh Toraskar2 years ago in Poets
The song of grandma and her oven hums a harmony, percussed by spinning whisk that dances ‘round the bowl in which it drums
By H.H. Callaghan2 years ago in Poets
