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.

Was It All In My Head
trapped in a thought that came into my mind like a deer, I was caught deaf, dumb and blind frozen in time a dried up ink blot
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
Last Night of Love
The moon glows, gentle on the quiet street, Soft light weaving gold on tangled sheets, We lie side by side, but worlds apart,
By Ameliaabout a year ago in Poets
First Love
I saw you once, and time stood still, A glance, a smile—I felt the thrill. The world grew quiet, soft and wide, With you, my heart had found its guide.
By Ameliaabout a year ago in Poets
Waiting for Rain on a Hot Summer Day
The sky hangs heavy, white with glare, The sun a fire no shade can spare. Each breath I take feels thick and slow, The earth beneath begins to glow.
By Ameliaabout a year ago in Poets
No Subtle In My Swagger
Pay close attention to the subtle cues learn how to read a room And if it seems no one's missing you then you know what to do
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
The Perils of Overloving
If you love too much, you'll often face heartbreak. In love, a man will rarely tell you directly that he doesn't actually need your unconditional kindness. Those seemingly affectionate actions — constant concern, tirelessly running errands, using money to please, or making him the center of your world — may not be seen as positive attributes by men.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
The Bee, the Fly and the Moth
The Bee, the Fly and the Moth The bee wore boots and a pilot’s hat, He fancied himself a diplomat, Buzzed in a bar all full of cheer,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
The Train That Took Him Away
The Train That Took Him Away The train that took him away howled at the dawn like a curse steam biting the wind, metal grinding the dirt from its path.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
POEM - Climate Verse Movement
We gather not with placards or parades, but with pens, syllables, and spirit— in the ink-soaked silence of notebooks, where protest bleeds not in fire,
By Jacky Kapadiaabout a year ago in Poets
Don't Love or Guide Your Children Too Much
Your family has the means to send you to university. Children must grow up independently. Poets grew up similarly. When children rebel, moms and dads repeatedly lie.
By TheNaethabout a year ago in Poets
Lightning flashed then hit his grave
Lightning flashed then hit his grave too soon after he emerged to carry on his haunting nights with boots still wet from shifting earth
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
We the Wall
I heard something that stuck in my head, as so many things do Among the useless and trivial, the line that stood out to me
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets