The neon bar light bleeds across the grime A holy neon glow for saints of chance We trade heavy hours for rounds of rhyme
By Tim Carmichael4 months ago in Poets
This is my kinda place Staff that show the grace Needed to be polite Friendly And helpful You serve coffee I ask Sure help yourself
By Raymond G Taylor4 months ago in Poets
You hear it now, don’t you? That scraping sound beneath the anthem, that crack beneath the stars and stripes, the hiss of something hungry slipping through the seams of a nation that once swore never again.
By Cadma4 months ago in Poets
~~ Part One ~~ MC ~~ Part Two ~~ Kelli ~~ Part Three ~~ MC 🔽🔽 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With the stroke of midnight Under the full moon’s light
By Mother Combs4 months ago in Poets
In the year seventeen-ten, the world almost came to an end So listen here as we two tell the tale of how one lone soul Rises above the evil one, forcing its knee to bend
~Such a Terrible Life!~ "God Help My Soul!" Last words of Edward Allen Poe! "God help my soul" Such a terrible life, Baltimore killed me... (with their drink),
By Jennifer Cooley4 months ago in Poets
And so dear friends it comes to this: Our despicable death-dealing authoress, Whose tales of mystery and murder enthral, But who has deceived us, one and all.
My mirror asked again the same question Are you going to carry it again? The broken years. The names that still taste like rust.
Where is the giant Where lies his head Where is the grave Of the brave knight who did Challenge Arthur in battle To be smitten
Wisdom of the old hearts! a second version! She walked the world with searching eyes, Her heart adrift beneath wide skies.
By CA'Di LUCE * Confessions & Memories in Conversations with friends!/ It’s not a revolution—it’s a quiet evolution.4 months ago in Poets
I need to honor her! Me, a wandering young soul and the careful and the ever-worried heart of a woman born a few years before 1900 and who carried the emblem of her family and love for God until the late 80s! I believe she passed away in 1994 or 1995!
There are places in the mountains the old men name only in whispers. It's where time loosens its grip like a hand releasing a stone
By Lana V Lynx4 months ago in Poets
