Elegy

Petrichor
I remember the smell of my screen door new, aged—now it’s smells of memories rain—a dash of rust, the layers of paint have stories I made a mistake replacing it to stop a draft letting in the dead.
By Gerry Thibeault3 days ago in Poets
Rest in Peace My Father: The Art of Forgiving
🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺 🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺 Today my father died, years ago. I didn’t go to his funeral, and for decades I never visited him or had anything to do with him. He died of cancer at while I survived cancer twice. I thought of him as Satan because he beat me daily as a kid for no reason. When I earned my PhD, I didn’t invite him. I made sure he never saw my children.
By SAMURAI SAM: Wild Wayne4 days ago in Poets
Are You Real?
The hardest part of every single day is right now, when the house goes completely quiet, and I am left sitting here alone with nothing but the thought of you.
By Syl De'Vil7 days ago in Poets
Who, What, When, Where, Why?
Who forgot first to willingly share, enduring all burdens alone, forgetting? resenting? the other standing there? What happened to flames
By Liz Montano7 days ago in Poets
I'm Dead
I'm dead. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU!!!! My phone fizzles out in my hand and my only thought is death. Without this tiny device, smaller than my hand, my life means nothing. Everything I've ever created is on my phone, my very soul and all my friends are linked to this mess of metal. I will never meet the only people I could ever trust with my secrets, if I don't have my phone.
By J "Griffin" Rooms8 days ago in Poets
Difficult Immigrant Poetry
Been rubbin’ a bad charm with holy fingers. * Now, what do I mean by that? * I begin with this question, I have ideas worth a mention.
By Kendall Defoe 8 days ago in Poets
The Architecture of the Echo
For two decades, names have been kept quiet in the corners of my mind. There are phantoms from the deep past, markers of a distant time before the world got heavy, before the beautiful noise of a full house, and before the endless roads that never seem to arrive anywhere. Then there are the steady anchors of the present, the ones who stand just close enough to offer wisdom but remain entirely outside the physical perimeter of the flame. When you carry that much history, you naturally build a complex architecture around people in the dark. You wonder which path leads to an absolute ending and which one is just another horizon designed to keep you guessing.
By Syl De'Vil8 days ago in Poets
Welcome back
Welcome Back Leaves rustle and dance in the wind. A voice howls through the autumn air, Shakily whispering, Come in. Somewhere, a black cat meows.
By Kenneth cruz12 days ago in Poets
My Sorrow-
You maybe under a lot of stress and never know how far you'd get. You could attempt to reach for the stars, with a backpack jet. However you could spiral back down like a circumvent.
By Dina Evans 12 days ago in Poets
Vita In Discrimine
Today, I sipped my coffee Under orange leaf hues Listening to the endless rustling Of nature’s phoenix fire *** Why must decay reign For us to acknowledge The beauty held within A leaf so mundane? *** Foliage so full of fire Underscored by snap and crackle Assembled bodies Warmed by flame and wool *** A constant, latent chill Demands a libation A cider, a bourbon A paired stew, preferred in a cauldron *** Twirl amongst the skeletons Let shivered spines Be eternal reminders That thou art mortals *** So let us come honor This hallowed month Which, if we’re quite honest Wears the crown, in triumph
By Matthew J. Fromm13 days ago in Poets
On Reading a Well-Known Poet's Obituary
How sad, reading your obituary. How sad that the world knows who you are, but not me. I've lost the chance for eager anticipation.
By Natalie Wilkinson13 days ago in Poets
My Heart Is Sore
My heart is an emotional battlefield. Fore I am very weak but I am strong still. Fore love was dirty, but I loved with all my will.
By Dina Evans 14 days ago in Poets