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.

Smoke in the Shadows
Poetry: In the hush of night, he stands alone, A soul half-lost, in silence grown. Smoke spirals like forgotten dreams, Woven through moon's silver beams.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
POEM - In The Porcelain
I. The Cup A curve of white, so thin it sings when struck by light—a whispered chime. The glaze, a ghost of ancient kilns,
By Jacky Kapadiaabout a year ago in Poets
What I'll never say...
What is that to never speak of? But then decide to write about? That seems like a contradiction, I would never let those thoughts out!
By Adora Hooperabout a year ago in Poets
The Last Swing
In the backyard where grass no longer grows, The swing still hangs where the wind softly blows. Ropes frayed like the edges of a lullaby,
By Wings of Time about a year ago in Poets
"Whispers Beneath the Moon"
On the curve of night, where silence bends, A soul sits still as the dark transcends. Upon a branch that dares to dream, He rides the hush of moonlight’s beam.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
MEMORY STATIC
This a part of the Outstages Cafe series. The blue chair is the disappearing and reappearing object in this series of memory static, Blue Chair at the Edge. Step into the Echoes Beyond the Veil
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
The Tapestry of Life
I. The Dawn of Breath From silence sprung a whisper deep, Where stars and soil in cradle sleep, A breath was drawn, the first of flame,
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
You Can’t Take It Back
You Can’t Take It Back You can’t take what’s been said back once it’s out, it stays not in the air but in the ear in the chest
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Petals Against the Silence
Petals Against the Silence By Sahil’s Reflection She leans on stone that does not feel, A mask of time, so cold, so real.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
Read My Legs, Read My Book
Nothings! Read my legs! Read my book—nothings! Just skin and bones. Nothing like “See Jane Run” or “Beep! Beep!” Nothing… But maybe if I were present, Jane would’ve won— …the book. But it’s too late! Now, Beep Beep. Beep Beep. In the library, I see— The Roadrunner. It won! It won! Without the ole coyote. Thank you for reading! Which part of the poem resonates with you? Share your thoughts. Please leave a comment. Copyright 2025 K.A. Smith
By K.A. Smithabout a year ago in Poets
Blue Chair at the Edge (2019)
This is a prose with characters and script. The idea arrived in my brain after feeling blue yesterdays of then and now from 2019 to 2025. It's about a broken relationship with a family member and the day I shot the photo of the lone blue chair looking out across the ocean from a cliff in Palos Verdes, California in 2019.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
The Murder of daughter by their jealous son
The Murder of daughter by their jealous son She never cried in front of them just folded towels with trembling hands kept her voice polite and low
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets