Top Stories

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

Dead Eye
We lived in a forest near rivers and streams With hunting and fishing fulfilling our dreams Since she was the “gatherer,” I was to hunt
By Earl W. Pearlabout a year ago in Poets
Clone
Make me out to be something I'm not, a clone to live in your head with malicious intent. Shape her around assumptions and lies, the kind I've never told,
By Kay Husnickabout a year ago in Poets
Lilith . Content Warning.
☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ In the midst of a downpour, she savors hollows Her feet caresses marmoris her gaze follows. She stands alone, her mind on wars Her neurons screams to the moons What was the fault in her stars?
By Chériabout a year ago in Poets
Unspoken
Not‐ One‐ Word‐ Without a sound made Even silence can be loud Lips‐ Sealed‐ Mouth closed, but mind open Thousands of thoughts
By Josh Morganabout a year ago in Poets
Branching Out
Finding the ways out of a realm that does not see me, emptying the load that ways down the soul hoping peace prevails. Broken apart on a road less traveled on,
By Angel Adagioabout a year ago in Poets
Dilettante
Dilettante: a person who cultivates an area of interest without real commitment or knowledge, a dabbler in the fine arts My Connection: I enjoy a visit to an art museum as well as the occasional spectating of performance arts, but I’m definitely not a dedicated student of the finer things in life. I feel like I can appreciate them but I’ll definitely never experience them in the way a committed expert does. Even as a writer I’m definitely more of a simple storyteller than a creator of literature.
By D.K. Shepardabout a year ago in Poets
i n e f f a b l e
forget language show me the g e s t i c u l a t i o n of your jowls as you realize your joy and grief a m p l i f y
By Kristen Balyeatabout a year ago in Poets
27 Club
Almost 28 - made it halfway to safety. Can't give up now, but I'm losing it lately. Pausing on dreams cause these agents might hate me,
By Ashley Limaabout a year ago in Poets
Unrequited Sky
Her eyes, like the sky, Wild, blue and yonder. And me - Not a Mister Wright.
By the Phuzzabout a year ago in Poets
Moon
Waxing and waning Weaver of tides and seasons Watcher of the night
By Josh Rippergerabout a year ago in Poets
regurgitation
The mouth drowns in saliva, first bland then sweet bitter boiling acid- The nose hairs sizzle from the bonfire of yesterday's meals diffusing the air-
By Jada Fergusonabout a year ago in Poets
Leaky Sky
Soft pitter patter from grey clouds to speckled streets can my eyes leak too?
By T. Lichtabout a year ago in Poets