excerpts
Poets Media isolates the most poignant, powerful, and exquisitely composed verses and quotes in the universal poetry canon.
The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived
You were supposed to be the one person I could confide in. Hell. You were the one person I could confide in. You were my everything. You were the one person I thought would never hurt me - the one person I couldn't ever picture hurting me. You used to fight to keep me safe. You used to be the one who'd pull me out in order to keep me safe. You were my everything. My everything. I used to love every single ounce of you, and now I can't even think of your name without crying. I can't look at a picture of you without feeling like someone shoved a razor-sharp dagger into my lung. So I guess what I have to say is...
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet2 years ago in Poets
Boss vs Leader: Understanding the Difference
In the professional work context, the terms ‘boss’ and ‘leader’ can be understood as synonyms. Nevertheless, this distinction is critical to cultivating a healthy organizational culture and performance. Where a boss is autocratic in discipline and power, a leader is more persuasive, motivating, and transformative.
By Mohammad Usman2 years ago in Poets
a dime a dozen
i won’t try to scare you with the promise that you’ll never find another girl like me, when we both know what’s most terrifying is just how common i can be. you’ll never want to see my eyes again, but you’ll spot them everywhere, like dirty windows, as light and clear as smudged glass. you’ll see a hundred brunettes a day with hair tumbling down their sagging backs, with lazy buns and bangs to help hide the faces they can’t stand, faces you’ll start hating too. they’ll cry enough to combat the worst of droughts because they’ll have issues that ignite like gasoline and i can’t wait for you to learn that i was never as obscure as you swore i seemed. they’ll ask about the things you hate and things you love and things you like somewhere in between and they’ll beg you to place them in one of those categories. they’ll question if they exist and if they do, they’ll wonder if they should; you’ll hold the bodies they loathe while they compare themselves to something they think you’d rather have, because we’re well aware of how typical our mouths must taste and how mundane it must sound when we confess how we’ve never loved someone like you before.
By melancholy galaxies2 years ago in Poets
Scars to your beauty
What magnitude of pain can hurt? What is the measuring capacity of the human heart to bear, to accumulate in its precipice before it finally seeks redemption, before it concludes to itself no more? How ironic and disbarring it is to moan about the loss of someone after their demise after they bury themselves on the deathbed or even more unbearing when they bury themselves in their essence. If they bury themselves in their breaths, they break their souls, they pierce their hearts and shed every ounce of their aching identity that constitutes their trace.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
