Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Out Of Love
I’m shaking because I just saw you I was walking around with the hope that I would maybe we would cross paths, And it happened
Isabella WalkerPublished about a year ago in PoetsWonton Soup
Small sockets of oil in the broth under my dripping nose. Scallions swim between oversized whales made of dough and pork.
Family Feast
Daddy carried in dinner by the feet Mama squealed at the sight of plump meat Sister grabbed the nose Brother snatched some toes
Heather HagyPublished about a year ago in PoetsDNF
Under a weighted blanket with wine at my side I excitedly open my new book wide. An interruption comes before I even finish a page.
Nikki Torino WagnerPublished about a year ago in PoetsCredo
I believe, even if that's a crime, I am hopless and there is no cure: I believe that all poems should rhyme, I believe that true love should endure.
Vadim KaganPublished about a year ago in PoetsEmotional Cheating?
What hurts, you ask? ... Somewhere inside, a lost self lingers, waiting, Exhausted and alone, the battle-weary warrior,
PJ JackelmanPublished about a year ago in PoetsThe moon is missing
I could have called out: Just a squeak and they would have turned. Something held me back Kept me quiet. Not menacingly or maliciously barring, I think.
See You Next Tuesday!
[Foreword] My Junior year English teacher used to give us ‘bellwork’, which was essentially journaling for a grade. She only required it to be five lines long and she provided a prompt, so it was simple. If you missed a day, you could just write five sentences in its place. Being the difficult kid I was, I took advantage of this opportunity and wrote limericks for my bellwork. Yes, a new limerick every day. This teacher, unfortunately, severely disliked me and often threw my papers away, so it’s likely my poems are rotting in a landfill somewhere, among the garbage it kind of somewhat belongs. Well, Lauren, try to throw this one away!
A. GonzálezPublished about a year ago in PoetsAll Good Deeds
I spent my entire day cleaning. The worn hardwood was glistening. All the laundry was sorted and put away too. I looked around thinking, “what more is there to do?”
Nikki Torino WagnerPublished about a year ago in PoetsViscount Bob
His name was Viscount Bob He often behaved like a snob Drove a fancy car And vacationed afar But never held a job. ~~~~~~~~
Advice Is My Vice
I’m always being called for advice. And truth be told, their dramas do entice. But they don’t want real honesty. Instead they do the contrary.
Nikki Torino WagnerPublished about a year ago in PoetsCorn is my Life
I grow corn to eat and sell to survive in life So does my wonderful wife Corn tastes so good and sells so well The demand is high, the price has not recently fell
Alex H MittelmanPublished about a year ago in Poets