fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about what makes a good poem and the poetry rules that were made to be broken.
Come to Me
Come to me with insincerity hold me with disdain touch me with your arrogance caress me with condescension seduce me with your sweet, sweet lies.
Cathy holmesPublished about 2 hours ago in PoetsEnough?
What more do you want, is it less of what you have, less of this or more?
James GreenPublished about 4 hours ago in PoetsShared Spaces
We're a collection of cosmic humanity different colors and different races With a vastness of varieties sharing a world of common spaces
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished about 7 hours ago in PoetsMirror, Mirror
Mirror, Mirror On the stand Tell me If you can Who is The one That has Already gone Over to the Dark side To live
Mother CombsPublished about 9 hours ago in PoetsIt's A Wild, Wild, Wild, Wild World
Go west young man, find your future, face your fears. Thats the common known consensus, of the doers, through the years. Chase your dreams and your adventures, leaving tales worthy to tell. Leaving nothing but ambition marking your path out of hell.
Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished about 9 hours ago in Poetswhr r th vwls
whr r th vwls dstryd n cnflct frgt th nrm frg th stndrd dcphr th cd whts th gl qstn vrythng ths s nt drll ths s th rvltn
Paul StewartPublished about 10 hours ago in PoetsFallen Feast
Turned over tables, wine covering the stone floor, no one left to hail.
James GreenPublished about 15 hours ago in PoetsWho is the real goat, Messi or Ronaldo?
Oh, darling, the debate rages, fiery and hot, Who is the GOAT, who truly takes the top spot? Messi, with his magic, so sleek and so sly,
The unkind atrocity of kindness
The unkind atrocity of kindness On nights that are filled with darkness and despair, Where the blanket bites under the coldness of the swaying air.
Hridya SharmaPublished about 18 hours ago in PoetsMy Original Pot of Golden Joy
In Mom's warm kitchen, memories ignite, Of childhood snacks, a pure delight. White bread baked with poppy seeds' grace, A canvas for nostalgia, a cherished place.
ColdHardCashPublished about 18 hours ago in PoetsWishes
She loved him first and he loved her late She loved him more than he'll ever know He loved her more than he'll ever show
Pore CamaraPublished about 23 hours ago in PoetsEmpty Souls
Empty souls Trying to fill the hole The void All to avoid the reality There is no amount of alcohol, drugs, or roids to make the pain go away
Atomic HistorianPublished a day ago in Poets