The world leans forward, slow and inevitable— As if some unseen hand runs a thumb along the horizon, smearing golden residue into gray,
By Stefano D'angelloabout a year ago in Poets
We post our mercy, polished bright, Animals saved in fleeting light. Likes like applause, gentle and small, Yet hungry children wander, unseen by all.
By Life Hopesabout a year ago in Poets
In the darkened field, there is one light. Not the stars — they scatter, indifferent, cold fire flung too far away. Not the moon —
By Alain SUPPINIabout a year ago in Poets
Morning spills through the glass doors, kids dragging backpacks twice their size, shoelaces untied, someone clutching a permission slip like it’s gold.
By Brie Boleynabout a year ago in Poets
It’s not like riding a bike This memory can rust I can’t even remember How to fire one up When we were kids the memory was etched on on our hands
By Sam Spinelliabout a year ago in Poets
“Another cut—fueled passion; flames and dies—ash and cinder scattered across the night skies.” The blade gleamed once, silver against my skin,
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzalesabout a year ago in Poets
"There is a silence older than sorrow." There is a silence older than the grave, it waits in shadows, humming where we go.
"The stars remember. The Earth records." The stars remember what the soul has lost, the nightjar sings where silence learns to stay.
"The White Flame never dies. It transforms, it rises again." The flame endures, though ashes veil its face, a fire reborn within the darkened song.
"The wind paused to hear you breathe. The soil remembered your footsteps." The wind still pauses where your breath once lay,
"Between loss and remembrance lies a realm of silent echoes." Between the worlds, the silence holds its song, a voice half-gone, yet lingering in stone.
Mother f- Mother f- Mother f- through my mask— feel my seethe my teeth grate like chalk on a board, aluminium against bare fists.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
