Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Public Service Announcement
Public Service Announcement My sons are black My family is too But my face is white Which makes it easier for you To pretend I’m racist too.
SouloCircusPublished 3 years ago in PoetsBurning Throw her
Air: Calling my soul my mind and heart. Filling my lungs. Flowing throw my veins. Earth: Pulls me down grounds my body. Making my body strong like metal. My heart the tree inside me creating the clean air.
Foster KittenGamingPublished 3 years ago in PoetsA timely word
What is a word spoken in due season? A remark of compassion to the afflicted spirit? The encouragement towards another in their suffering?
Jordan ZunigaPublished 3 years ago in PoetsOur Mother
We shout at the top of our lungs, "We love you" and then mash our mistake into your flesh you are the foundation which we were born,
Hope HausmanPublished 3 years ago in PoetsThe Power To Transform
Words - Are they just letters to you? Thoughts - Plain mental activities only? And Wishes – Just a yearning for something?
Josephine CrispinPublished 3 years ago in PoetsMY HEART’S HOME
My heart has been stolen several times, All just to be tossed around and declined. All it wanted was a happy home, One to call it’s very own.
Carla SofiiLove GarciaPublished 3 years ago in PoetsParty to My Pain
Ironic, isn’t it? How the tables turn, how nothing can stop them, Not you and not me, Not promises or tears or any kind of plea.
Inaryia RieckaPublished 3 years ago in PoetsAm I
I miss me - A mirage, The essence. Before you. Now my smile, A façade. Before the deception, A version Once happy.
Kiva OulothrixPublished 3 years ago in PoetsPOETRY FOREVER
Written creative work in any language that possesses an enduring value in both aesthetics and application is referred to as literature. With its evolution, there are no hard and fast rules to define what it is, and has transcended the boundaries of space and time with the progress in the means of writing and its propagation.
DandelionclubPublished 3 years ago in PoetsWitching Hour:
Yesterday, I lost my muse I cannot write a single couplet Nay a verse The swing is empty, hold on tight, against the ropes—
Saroyan ColesPublished 3 years ago in PoetsI love you.
How deceiving smiles can be. All the pain that’s hidden underneath. All the words tucked into all the tiny nooks and crannies.
On Human Creation
In the beginning there were three brothers Each one followed the shadow of a father who had painted the world with his legacy
Miles Rafael Bairley-UjuetaPublished 3 years ago in Poets