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.

Going the Right Way…
Where am I? I am a loner. but, I am lost. When I’m in the crowd, I’m always a loner. I have no idea.. I do not know why..
By Meghan LeVaughn about a year ago in Poets
The Music Box
The oldest teen in the house, I was the first to get home from school every day— still too young to drive a car, but old enough to take the bus alone each way.
By Maddy Newtabout a year ago in Poets
Some Say She Is Weird
Some Say She Is Weird Some say she is weird her dress too dark her eyes too clear her silence sharp her smile slight a shadow moving through the night
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Can’t miss what you never had
Follow the path that leads your heart to freedom, though damage is common. Forget reality — you’ve changed the purpose of my tomorrow.
By Marcus Hillabout a year ago in Poets
Please Let Me Sleep And Dream
Please Let Me Sleep And Dream Each night I turn back the time, slipping into dreams where you are still mine. your voice close enough to touch,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
I come from a star that fell by mistake.
I come from a star that fell by mistake. I came here unannounced, like a thought escaping a notebook of imagination, or the shadow of a dream that decided to embody itself in the body of a woman who is better at contemplation than conversation. In my eyes, there is a map of a galaxy unlike Earth, and in my heart, a moon extinguished by human noise. I was searching for meaning, to be "me" amidst this clamor, and I discovered that identity is not what we are given, but what we create despite everything.
By Manalabout a year ago in Poets
Infomercial
Look inside my mind and you’ll find nothing—because nothing is all that’s left there. Tired of the noise? Tired of people wanting answers
By Kamran Khanabout a year ago in Poets
Echoes of the Sixties
Echoes of the Sixties In the house of the rising sun I wait a runaway heart asking where did our love go letters lost with please Mr Postman
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Whispers in the Dark
The night falls with frozen bated breath, A place of misery where the dead go round. Darkness darts in places where it should shine, And nothing in it all is what it meaning is. The steps on tattered floor, A scream lullaby at every door. Ghostly hands in the windows rattle, Time passes away as sands in streams. An out portrait frowns on you, Basing stories on drowned spirits. The candle-flames shiver In, their teeth bite back In. Testing ways of the midnight black. A planky creak, a moaning sound, It is awesome, solemn as stone. the gone faces shimmer in mirrors, And speak in secrets at the dawning. What you cannot name is in the attic, A dark companion is waiting to take part in the match. Halls stretch, you attempt to run, And the darkness eats all of your hair.
By INFO INSIDER about a year ago in Poets
That Stung
To everyone else, I was the lunatic. My friends and family watched in awe as I sprinted toward the water, arms flailing,
By Maddy Newtabout a year ago in Poets
Remembering the Pattern
...Lock every door. The thought borrows into my mind llike a parasite. Lock every door and pick out a knife. It's the same futile home-defense tricks
By Maddy Newtabout a year ago in Poets
Effortless Connections and Self-Discovery
It's only now that I realize the people who are genuinely good to me aren't the ones I have to work hard to get to know. Instead, they're the ones I feel comfortable and natural with right away, allowing me to connect with them effortlessly.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets