Top Stories

Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.

The Game
Her eyes pulled me into a darkened hall way -- They call the game "Blind man's bluff", where one wears a blind fold and the others escape their grasp
By ᔕᗩᗰ ᕼᗩᖇTY8 months ago in Poets
She is a Blade of Grass
She is a blade of grass— soft enough to sway, sharp enough to survive. Not the lush kind grown in manicured rows, but the kind that splits concrete
By Annie Edwards 8 months ago in Poets
paradox island
She was an ancient sorceress, both wise and powerful. She shattered illusion through her storms and silence, and tempered hearts through tenderness and trials.
By Kayleigh Fraser ✨8 months ago in Poets
No Longer Unseen... 👩🏻‍🦰🎉👨🏻‍🦰🎉. Content Warning.
Othered for your unique beauty… Devalued for your differences… Made to feel less than Beautiful… Bullied for your attributes…
By Tiffany Gordon8 months ago in Poets
A Generation Z Feminist
It is difficult to be a Generation Z feminist. To be an activist for any form of humanity, really. ~ You are not taken seriously.
By Katerina Petrou8 months ago in Poets
Drinking Fountain in the Clouds
The yeast on the eastern side of your heart rises and smells as bread. Your smell rakes the leaves into neat piles of mystification in my mind that is falling.
By Rowan Finley 8 months ago in Poets
I Laughed in the Labyrinth
Since childhood, I’ve had recurring nightmares about being lost in endless hallways, or mazes that twist back on themselves no matter which turn I take.
By Diane Foster8 months ago in Poets
Satin Ghosts
I met an elderly widow, who carried ghosts in her pocket. She smelled of Avon’s Red Door and mothballs. She called them memories,
By Natasha Collazo8 months ago in Poets
Angelique's Repose
Angelique hides quietly in a shrub as bees and birds flit around her. A ladybug climbs up her arm to rest on her shoulder. As she watches clouds, a napping, curled cat floats in the sky, followed by a strand of pearls spreading vertically and horizontally. There are many cloud shapes: eagles, mountains, a sleeping baby, and a canoe drifting along the sky river. Leaves brush against Angelique's immobile and ageless form, a concrete maiden frozen in time.
By Andrea Corwin 8 months ago in Poets
In Case I Never Fall
To My Parents My voice is sometimes clearer when written. Not tangled in sobs, not silenced by the weight of unshed tears.
By Nicole Fenn8 months ago in Poets
Carriers. Content Warning.
Carriers are flying in today, and I hate their blue-grey bodies coming in low to land. I hate the apparent slowness of their descent
By Natalie Wilkinson8 months ago in Poets
Of Water
I began this life in water. In the safe, quiet oblivion of a womb...swimming peacefully, unaware of what awaited me on the outside.
By Antoni De'Leon8 months ago in Poets