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Most recently published stories in Poets.
Masterpiece
Once a blank canvas My life’s a kaleidoscope Of God’s color wheel.
Colleen WaltersPublished 25 minutes ago in PoetsWelcome on the Show! T-Rex!
Tyrannosaurus Wrecks all competition with Gnarly repartee!
L.ClabroughPublished about an hour ago in PoetsHaiku made up of 3 words!
The prompt Here I am joining in the fun, finding big words to make an Haiku. ~~ Haiku Anthropocentric Epistemological Maldistribution .................................................................
Novel AllenPublished about 2 hours ago in PoetsTyrannosaurus Hack
If you are anything like myself, you'd cringe in the presence of authority figures who do not see reason. There is a problem with them, though. They're far from easy to deal with.
Michelle LiewPublished about 3 hours ago in Poetsthe whirlwind and the wildfire
he is a whirlwind - chaos incarnate - torrents and turbulence filling the air with debris that now lands in my realm, before the rainclouds form. a massive front of low pressure dragged behind his highs. but he doesn't know i am a wildfire. his winds give me oxygen to breathe, but he doesn't like the heat and his emotions rain down. stormy tears to put the inferno out. the blaze of my fury subdued. his winds have changed direction, for now. exhausted by his own friction. the earth my fire burns left to renew as it needs to, parenting inventive convenience, for the cycle must continue. but the whirlwind returns, so curious, wanting to be close, and still unaware of how he affects my wild heart of fire. so, i burn and i hiss and i glow. a climax of explosive instinct - a natural reaction, but a hazard nonetheless. and the world demands i put my fire out and block his tornadic gusts. do it or they will do it for me, before they carry on about the weather, "... what a dangerous idea for the wildfire to be so reckless with the whirlwind..."
⸘jason alan‽Published about 4 hours ago in Poetspast…2022
3/2/22 3:26pm They say grief gets lighter over time and I suppose that should make sense but I’ve
Olivia DodgePublished about 4 hours ago in PoetsLove Scent
I disappear and forget - Who I am, Who I was, Who I will be Obsession and Longing Purple Emerald Juice drips from the Garden of Eve
Ute Luppertz ✨Published about 5 hours ago in PoetsHopes for a new chapter
Hey guys, before you dive into this poem, make sure to check out my Pinterest account here, for interesting stuff like FREE writing prompts as well as trendy product recommendations! Enjoy!
Echoes of the Mesozoic
In the dawn of time, when Earth was young, A colossal silhouette against the rising sun, The sauropod roamed, its footsteps thunderous, Leaving imprints in mud, a legacy wondrous.
QUBA ASHRAF BALOCHPublished about 6 hours ago in PoetsBook that read me
We read most books But only few read us back Now that the pages thrills a look White pages turn black Bright pages turn blank
The Questions Remain Unanswered
I stare at the massive collection of your bones, meticulously organized to paint your image, and I’m struck with further curiosity:
BrettNotGregPublished about 7 hours ago in PoetsLila's Legacy: The Wisdom of Eldergrove
Among a sacred and enduring forest, Eldergrove village, a tiny one, was situated. The villagers were humble, and they closely lived with the nature to which they returned what they owned by the nature and took only what they required. Not far away from them was a young woman named Lila, who all trees could describe their language into her ears. A kind and gentle heart was her own, she has every soul in her hands. Then, one incredible afternoon, Lila was moving past areas that she had never wandered that far before, and she discovered a hidden glade mysteriously bathed by golden rays. The most beautiful tree had its limbs spread out at the heart of the grotto and its silver leaves that glittered in the sun rays. Upon her arrival, she was greeted by the sight of a small leather bound manuscript entrapped in the root clusters, carefully wrapped in the foliage that was the color of emerald, and adorned with intricate patterns of gold. Gloriously, she raised the volume with her heartbeat exactly the same and opened it. Through this sentence the character's bond with the book became stronger. Thus, the first sentence reads, 'She was silent, barely a whisper.
Muhammad AbdullahPublished about 7 hours ago in Poets