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.

HOW DEEP IS THE SEA
HOW DEEP IS THE SEA How deep is the sea? I asked from the shore, It whispered, come closer, There’s always much more. Beneath all the silver Beneath all the blue, Are gardens of coral That sunlight shines through.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
The tower of deception
The tower of deception The tower stood above the town, where sunlight never stayed, its windows watched the people pass, its rooms were filled with shade.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
HOW SALTY IS THE SEA
HOW SALTY IS THE SEA How salty is the sea? I tasted one drop, It danced on my tongue And refused there to stop. It tasted of journeys Of ships sailing through, Of mornings in silver And evenings in blue.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
Some Honest Thoughts on Instapoetry
Note: I found an old comment of mine under a video on the rise of Instapoetry. This is my comment on a critique. KD All best-sellers?
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Poets
The old lockbox
The old lockbox There’s times I wake up feeling lonely, dreaming someone might be my only. But life moves on and no one knocks, hope stays hidden in an old lockbox.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
On The Shores Of October
It's not a place on a map but it's somewhere you go Just after the beaches and before the snow A world of wild wonder where the fireflies rest And the leaves pile under as trees are getting undressed
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 months ago in Poets
The Journey to Your Best Self
Everything happens by chance. What you didn't get was never truly yours. The wounds you've suffered are what make you wiser.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing2 months ago in Poets
THE EMPTY CHAIR
THE EMPTY CHAIR Your chair remains beside the fire, Where evening shadows fall, I sometimes hear you say my name, But no one speaks at all.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
This Isn’t AI, It’s a Pulse
This Isn’t AI, It’s a Pulse The Clique That Mistook Life for AI Disclaimer: These stories come from my own hands, my own notes, and my own lived years. I write them, shape them, and polish them myself the same way I edit my videos and create my music. This is my voice, my blues, my work.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 months ago in Poets
IMPRISONED BY MY FAT BODY
IMPRISONED BY MY FAT BODY I wake inside this body That feels no longer mine, A prison built around me One pound at any time.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
MY BROTHERS, MY FRIENDS
MY BROTHERS, MY FRIENDS We shared the same beginnings, The same familiar door, We ran around as children And argued on the floor.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
I Don’t Write for Cold People
“I Don’t Write for Cold People” (my voice, my frequency, my California fire) SELFIE I TOOK THIS EDITED IN ADOBE PHOTOSHOP EXPRESS
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 months ago in Poets