Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
This body has crossed oceans of raging waters has been lost in storms at sea. Its possibilities are endless; its power is still surprising me.
By Raistlin Allen9 months ago in Poets
i know mother animal. she been walking under pines since Creation. maybe you seen her painted in ochre? maybe you seen her in Rome.
By Jennifer A. G.9 months ago in Poets
This poem explores the insatiable side of desire through the voice of a greedy merchant who no longer seeks tea for comfort or pleasure, but for control, power, and hidden knowledge.
By Diane Foster9 months ago in Poets
Thievery Abounds Vocal Does Not Protect Us We Will All Fight Back _________________Bolt⚡ When I wrote this story 👇 on 5/7......
By Lightning Bolt ⚡9 months ago in Poets
That place where memories float Lived in what was once a paper boat *** The kid in you is still so BRIGHT The pillow captured your echoed fright
By Colleen Walters9 months ago in Poets
I didn’t go to her funeral. Too many faces I no longer knew. Too many stories that stopped reaching for me once my mother closed the door
By Carolina Borges9 months ago in Poets
She is a sun- not merely light, but the fire that births it. Not a passive glow, but a force- fierce, untamed, and impossible to ignore.
By Annie Edwards 9 months ago in Poets
“Your past mistakes do not define you. You have the power to rewrite your story and create a future filled with purpose and joy”
By Ruth Elizabeth Stiff9 months ago in Poets
She sits in a room without the weight of others A mother - lost in thought about the life she’s found before her For her - its construction’s a mystery or destiny or maybe
By Kevin Newton9 months ago in Poets
"FINDING HOME" Sunlight spilling across my skin, a warm hush; the world pulling me in. A clean swept sky, breathless and wide –
By Kaneene Pineda9 months ago in Poets
He saw it in her eyes. The heartbreak. The past. The artist knew he’d ink whatever she asked. He didn't expect her to let him make a choice.
By Steph Marie9 months ago in Poets
I used to paint the dawn and think that I was made of vivid pigment, like the daybreak's ardent spirit— cyan, violet,
By Gina C.9 months ago in Poets
