They all assembled for reward.
The best to receive an award.
There was no slapping,
just polite clapping.
I left because I was so bored.
About the Creator
Steve Lance
My long search continues.
Keep reading
More stories from Steve Lance and writers in Poets and other communities.
Feeling Like A Dead Leaf
Self-conscious breaths unfold through the forest within my chest, an avalanche tips off and drops. Plop into the pond of my fears it rips a ghost faceless in my inner rowdiness. The room is overcrowded with action and noise it's hard to grasp true connection. I feel like a torn bed sheet stripped from my comfort scattered from my alone solitude. Feeling skinless and yuck of unaddressed weight. Overpiled junk with crushing inner dialogue bashing myself in a closet. At times I feel drunk swaying above heavy floors kicking dead leaves at my feet. And then I wonder, what does it feel like to be a dead leaf? Nothing and everything!
By Haytham Trueheart7 days ago in Poets
A Hiatus Turned Reflection
No, I wasn't dead, nor fighting off some great mystical beast tyrannizing a group of villagers. To those who look forward to what I have to say, or to put it better, write, I am genuinely sorry for my disappearance from the Vocal platform and community.
By Dailyn Townes2 days ago in Humans
Comments (2)
Haha! This was not what I was expecting either 🤣🤣
I opened this worried what I was going to read. I have a bad mind clearly... euphemisms spring forth far too.quickly!! Nicely done Steve.