Many have stood here
But fewer at the summit
Some of them remain
How does it work?
More stories from Simon Curtis and writers in Poets and other communities.
I didn’t come home when they wanted,
There was always an excuse
A meeting that had dragged on
Too many ends were loose.
By Simon Curtis2 years ago in Poets
I was but a teen blessed with the gift of losing myself. Don’t know when, where, or even how I swayed the arms of presence but I’d be gone. Just one of those habits, drifting away or off to a different planet. Knowing now, I was simply numb. Numb. What does that mean to a broken one? Nothing. No ups or emotional baggage, buried long ago and tossed away the shovel. Believing my lies to no longer be troublesome.
By Nathalie C.M. Sabbagha day ago in Poets
In a land of dreams, where freedom's call,
There stood a leader, brave and tall.
His name enshrined in history's page,
A beacon of hope in a turbulent age.
By Robert Brown5 days ago in Poets
It’s early the next morning, and the second day without Preston. Mary and Nia are in pajamas and supposed to login from their home office soon; they both work the 4:00am to noon shift.
By Real Poetic5 days ago in Fiction