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.
Grandchildren Make Everything Alright When it's Not
In tender arms, a love untold, grandchildren's wonder takes hold, with eyes aglow, their spirits dance, a bounce at life's second chance.
Denise LarkinPublished 12 months ago in PoetsEchoes of Love
In the depths of silence, love's whispers emerge, A symphony of feelings that gently surge, Through the corridors of time, their echoes resound,
Ireayo OlaleganPublished 12 months ago in PoetsUnveiling the Unforgettable: A Poetic Ode to the Boldest Heist in History!
In shadows deep, a whispered scheme, Where cunning minds weave a daring dream. A symphony of whispers in the night, A heist awaits, bathed in stolen light.
Stephen KabuteyPublished 12 months ago in PoetsWhispers of Enchantment
In realms beyond the waking world's embrace, Where dreams and imagination interlace, Whispers of enchantment fill the air,
Hanna NelsonPublished 12 months ago in PoetsTHE GOOD OLD DAYS
Those were the days, the good old days, When life was simple in so many ways. No worries of tomorrow, no burdens to bear,
Lily HunterPublished 12 months ago in PoetsCelestial Canopy
Beneath the vast celestial canopy, Where sunsets paint the sky with poetry, Nature unveils its resplendent grace, A symphony of beauty in every space.
Hanna NelsonPublished 12 months ago in PoetsMY GREY HAIRS HAVE MANY MOTHER
MY My grey hairs are children of many mothers; they are an offsprings of a billion wombs. Do you know how hurtful it is, to nurture and feed for four years, a dove you brought in as pet, only for it to fly away, in escape to a fecund forest? Do you know what it means, to be the husband of your mother as a toddler, or the father of your siblings as an infant, because your father was an unreturned wanderer to the wondering clouds? Do you know what it means, when men rendered help only after, they had slithered like snakes, out of the sacred holes of your sisters' bodies? Have you had a taste of the salty-bitter water of tears? Do you know what it means, when the C.V you submitted some days ago, was used to sell egg roll for you? Have you ever entered into the forest of thoughts, only for its exit door to be closed? my grey hairs came out of the wombs of different mothers- my grey hairs are ageless burdens, that I carry on my head.
Okikiayo Joshua OLOTUPublished 12 months ago in PoetsCasting Shadows.
Daydreams allow our creativity to flow. It attaches to our thoughts, like a nightmare to a dream catcher, the worlds burdens no longer exist.
Thanks for your submission
In this realm of creation, where words intertwine, I extend my heartfelt thanks for the beauty you've aligned. Your submission, a treasure, a glimpse of your soul,
kulandaivelPublished 12 months ago in PoetsHomage to the Dancing Lady
I'm sorry but I judged you for dancing in the front row Your bright pink shirt a heavy contrast in the grey evening Your hair a mess of bushy brown
Judah LoVatoPublished 12 months ago in PoetsUnveiling Masculine Vulnerability
In the realm where strength and vulnerability entwine, Let us journey through the depths of the masculine mind. Where men, brave and bold, navigate unseen tides,
The Pull of the Forest
Deep in the dark, dense forest, there are trees towering over me, they are keeping me safe, but also keeping me on edge with a healthy dose of uneasiness
Paul StewartPublished 12 months ago in Poets