Stream of Consciousness
If I were stung by a bee
If I were stung by a bee, Would the uncertainty of the writhing bane of living finally subside the menace of who we are deemed to be?
Hridya SharmaPublished about an hour ago in PoetsMemory Lane: After Hours
this road, memory lane– visiting hours are closed i can't stay too long this road isn't as safe in the night a hot wind blows a burning song, lyrics i cannot fight
Josh MorganPublished about 6 hours ago in PoetsLiving in a Dream
Together, the chaos does not exist Living for the little moments Our laughter filling the air Sunlight hitting your eyes, always makes them look like pools of melted honey
Mercedes ChavezPublished about 13 hours ago in PoetsWRONG
You're all wrong Everything is wrong Your thoughts are wrong Your words are wrong Hold your breath Don't breathe
CotardDelusionzPublished about 20 hours ago in PoetsMindfield
They wish they were blind Unable to look away Forced to watch it all- — Plug and play again Relentless sordid cycle He sees, crushed Witness-
Colleen WaltersPublished about 20 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 a day ago in PoetsRAW SPEW.
One swoop the wind picked up everything in its path. The little worms that creep from the soil after it rains, to the stranger who kicks their feet with child-like innocence.
Olivia MacbethPublished a day ago in PoetsWednesday's Tilt
Will Wednesday equal moments to my death What holds longer Destiny or days of tomorrow Will a conscience rise Or such a thing a surprise to knowing
Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle AuthorPublished a day ago in PoetsWednesday's Tilt
Will Wednesday equal moments to my death What holds longer Destiny or days of tomorrow Will a conscience rise Or such a thing a surprise to knowing
Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle AuthorPublished a day ago in PoetsSeeking Answers
Some things have no obvious answers. They just present themselves with more questions. In fact, they leave you a bit dumbfounded. Like this plant.
Shirley BelkPublished a day ago in PoetsThe Totem
An owl flew into my car when I was driving home yesterday. It was dark, and I was surprised. It was only a graze (I think that helped),
Brooke FarrarPublished a day ago in PoetsAren't we pretending?
While having the breakfast, without enjoying it, we think about the lunch. When having the lunch, we dream about the desert,
P.A.Vinura JayasankaPublished 2 days ago in Poets