Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
There are plenty of things that I miss Plenty that I look back upon with simple bliss I never knew how simple it could be
By Will Helgren/Ochal3 years ago in Poets
Mother Moon caresses Your tear-strewn cheeks with her beams, Sends gentle waves to foam At your toes, the soft sand A reminder that you are safe, supported, seen.
By Helen Kwiecien3 years ago in Poets
sitting silenced wasted on space fluctuating indications empty nowheres of yesterdays futures hope and neglect litter the floors
By Bren3 years ago in Poets
Fog; That perpetual weight that holds spirits in check. The thick mist halts progression and breeds content ineptitude. Seeking out the haze instead of goals, it surrounds and suffocates.
By W. Joe O'Banion3 years ago in Poets
What can I do now that all laughter has left my life and I go on not knowing where to stop and greet sunshine on daisies
By Amy Christie3 years ago in Poets
Bones warmed, Summer’s heat Head swimming, too sick to eat Inhale, exhale. Pray. ***
By Killian3 years ago in Poets
I stand bravely, feet rooted in the ground and heart open towards the sun. Silence encompassing the air around me, there are no sounds in the breeze whispering words of duty, of tradition, or of expectation.
By Rachael3 years ago in Poets
After the parade, will we win? Will they finally to stop judging me by the color of my skin? Will they let me love whom my heart wills?
By Hector Gonzalez3 years ago in Poets
Rainbow confetti on the ground, drag queens sail by on floats, church members with banners that say they're accepting and doling out hugs.
By Andrea Lawrence3 years ago in Poets
The Fear: Every time it comes to this, I stop. I give in, to giving up. I let myself down, by letting go. Life's lessons, have me confused.
By Vanessa Wilcox4 years ago in Poets
I pee on a stick The clock starts to tick My world is flipped But the band starts to play New life made of clay Loud cheers and, hooray!
By Shannon Moose4 years ago in Poets
Litter my skin with moss My bones can be substituted with twigs, I do not need them anymore I want to be fragile I want to lay intertwined with the forest floor
By Cecelia Johnson 4 years ago in Poets
