Acrostic
The precipice of poetry that seeks redemption
The precipice of poetry that seeks redemption Callous whispers that uproar the fear in my mind, Bounty tales of my existence may cease to be left behind.
Hridya SharmaPublished 5 months ago in PoetsWorthy?
A hammer A sword in a stone A thrown waiting to be taken To be conquered by the forsaken To be shaken loose But it is you that must choose
Atomic HistorianPublished 5 months ago in PoetsYour Word is Your Wand!
A poetic tribute to Florence Scovell Shinn Being that life is a game you want to win Creation is your power - strong is your bond
Aaron Waddell - The Everyday MysticPublished 5 months ago in PoetsRaven Maid Raid
Remember the Raven Maid in the parking lot, Awaken your sensitive sense of nature's worth, Vandalized the naivety of old Sammy's tot,
Christian BassPublished 5 months ago in Poetsher last supper / my first bite
Actually, when I was born, my parents lived in a small house: cheap enough for the size and the way the cars drove by like stormchasers, but
Searching
A code in a book From a cephalopod god People roving the streets As ravenous dogs Devour the holiest of ours People scour to and fro
Atomic HistorianPublished 5 months ago in PoetsArt of being alone
Once, in a quaint town, lived a woman named Emma who cherished the art of being alone. Far from loneliness, she found solace in solitary moments. Emma spent her weekends wandering through serene landscapes, sketching the beauty around her.
Lincoln VRPublished 5 months ago in PoetsThe Wanderer
Behold!! The Wanderer Traveling the stars Both near and far What does it know It’s just a brain in a jar Come to inspect our world
Atomic HistorianPublished 5 months ago in PoetsSelf-doubt: the plunderer of dreams in the womb of young souls
How often do you hear the phrase self-doubt has killed more dreams than failure ever will? Our worth is often determined by the external factors that surround us. We are all conditioned to follow societal norms and adhere to the timeline that society wants us to follow.
Hridya SharmaPublished 5 months ago in PoetsBrain Worm
You’re my personal brain worm No matter how much I move Or squirm You stick in there You live in the house under my hair
Atomic HistorianPublished 5 months ago in PoetsThe art of absolute surrender
The art of absolute surrender To be everything that we yearn for to come true, and to not be a failure, an agonized loser in the eyes of others. We toil in our everyday trials to achieve our dreams, to become the person of our dreams. Sometimes we doubt ourselves, are we worthy enough to be the best version of ourselves we envision ourselves to be? The journey of life can be behold in its uncertain waters, questioning the belief we have for ourselves.
Hridya SharmaPublished 5 months ago in PoetsLost
Oh, where did you go Are you beneath the bed Or in the pillow Where are you strange fellow Lost to eternity How did you ever enter me
Atomic HistorianPublished 5 months ago in Poets