Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Have you ever vanished into your own pain? Has it ever been so all consuming that it swallows you whole and keeps you wrapped in a timeless void?
By Thae6 months ago in Poets
Find yourself at the platform on July 17, at precisely 9:45 pm PT Imagine, yes, imagine, you are wearing running shoes A fresh pair of Nikes, neatly laced and tied
By Marilyn Glover6 months ago in Poets
Fifteen hands Stacked side by side Steadily climb Toward the sky They stop At the apex Of his withers For shoulders stay
By Aspen Marie 6 months ago in Poets
navy blue is how I love you all the deep and dark parts you try to hide and all the goodness you have inside - crimson red
By angela hepworth6 months ago in Poets
I couldn't say out loud … How the very sight of you Took my breath away I couldn’t say out loud … How being near you Made my heart race too
By Andrew C McDonald6 months ago in Poets
It is dangerous to speak your names The Overton window slams to silence them Crisis, solidarity, insanity Adorning an ancient necropolis
By D. J. Reddall6 months ago in Poets
I know there is no ownership Of inspiration One cannot keep the wind in their hair Or trap a goddess On the head of a fountain pen
By K.B. Silver 6 months ago in Poets
And there it is once again. That old, familiar feeling starts creeping in. Thinking you might love someone so much more
By Sandy Gillman6 months ago in Poets
this. Why do the linguistic seeds I plant Isn't. flower into blooms of deep thought an. when sometimes, just sometimes
By Paul Stewart6 months ago in Poets
Words unspoken have presence, The weight of unspent potential. Brick by brick they build Developing whole worlds Soliloquies forming the scaffolding
By Obsidian Words6 months ago in Poets
She burned the midnight oil, studied quantum physics. Her village folks have no idea what that is, but they had heard
By Seema Patel6 months ago in Poets
I died last night in the darkened gloom. I died in arms bereft of bloom. Tears I’ve shed for lost branches’ warmth, Yearning more than the memories formed.
By Cathy holmes7 months ago in Poets
