excerpts
Poets Media isolates the most poignant, powerful, and exquisitely composed verses and quotes in the universal poetry canon.
"Sunlit Reverie"
In the garden of my mind, a happy child at play, Where laughter dances, and worries fade away. With a heart so light, like a butterfly in flight,
Mubashira KachhotPublished 6 months ago in Poets- Content Warning
Beware the unopened door
Beware the unopened door The door to anywhere everywhere and nowhere at all The door that leads to paradise nightmares, dreams
Paul StewartPublished 6 months ago in Poets "Infinite Calm"
In the tapestry of time, threads tightly spun, Some chapters in life cannot be undone. Embrace the dance of the unyielding tide,
Mubashira KachhotPublished 6 months ago in PoetsThe Winter Prowler
The trees were bare. But beware, some had a snare. Not a single leaf remained on the barren branches. A gentle snow had begun to fall in patches.
Haggar BenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsPlease Bite Me
Would it be wrong if I couldn’t ever be happy here? Would it be wrong if I never wanted to stay? Would it be wrong to always be alone? Would it be wrong to never feel a thing? Would it be wrong to say I am always thinking of more? Would it be wrong if I wanted to feel hunted? Wanted.* Would it be wrong if I said I was fucking jealous? Would it be wrong to want to feel held? Would it be wrong to be held like that? Would it be wrong if I said I didn’t want it to be right? Would it still be okay if I didn’t fight? Would it be wrong to find comfort in the shade of a beast? In the shadow of a monster?I want to be hunted for my blood. Would it be wrong to want their teeth? Would it be wrong to blink and be covered up in the dark? Would it be wrong to lie down for hours? Would it be wrong to be carried to bed by something I should fear? Would it be wrong to be held by a darkness that lingers? Would it be wrong to befriend the thing that haunts me? Would it be wrong to say I don’t want it to leave me? Would it be wrong If I wanted him to know nothing but my name? To keep me warm and put clawed paws around me? Would it even make it go away? Would it even make the record play? Would it even help the way I thought it might? Would it even happen, would I even know? Would it? Would it? Would it bite me hard enough I never think again?
jessica moonan daviesPublished 6 months ago in PoetsMasks
Might as well get used to it Life is full of disappointment No one shows you who they really are We all live our lives
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in PoetsEgoholic
Where do we go When everyone is drunk On their own ego Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in PoetsS.O.U.P.
Sleeping on unanswered prayers There’s hope at the death of light So we pray for night to open our sight To our plight
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSuddenly
In this loud house with obnoxious lighting, you pull me aside when the music gets too loud to talk over. Sat on a ratty couch, your arms spread over the cushions behind us and my heart beats almost right out, into my hands. The only thing that scares me more than you wanting to talk to me is you not wanting to talk to me. This scene feels familiar, the déjà vu hits me, and the replay gives me motion sickness.
daphne grayPublished 6 months ago in PoetsTHE FABRIC OF FRIENDSHIP
THE FABRIC OF FRIENDSHIP In the tapestry of life, a thread so divine, Woven with care, in a friendship's design. A bond that blossoms, a flower so rare,
Damilola Phebe DomiPublished 6 months ago in PoetsFriends?
A melancholic frolic That’s what we’re here for They act like you’re important They act like they like you So long as you fit their image of you
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in PoetsSweet Smooth Drunken sounds
The lights are somehow, in their own way, dark Am I eleven sambuca shots deep? Now there is nothing rotten in Denmark
Hywel LatimyrPublished 6 months ago in Poets