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.
Hello, September
she is a vibrant thing, isn't she just? she is all fun in the sun till dusk's call, and she is too soon always gone in a gust—
Jillian SpiridonPublished 3 years ago in PoetsThe Summer After
Warm summer air like velvet on my skin, long months of darkness finally gone awakens once more the woman within, can soul and body now be one?
Ronke BabajidePublished 3 years ago in PoetsSummer Heat
For those who think that war is but a game, I now present a battle of repute Though no one knows precisely who's to blame,
Julie LacksonenPublished 3 years ago in PoetsThe Maid's Kid
The Maid's Kid The boy saw his mother grubbing on her knees, Toiling like a mouse to get hold of the cheese. She works around the house, cleaning all the dishes.
Muhammad Saad ShabbirPublished 3 years ago in PoetsAn Allure of Spiders
you think it’s funny to pull down webs, but I think of the spiders calling them home. you squash the eight-legged creatures,
Jillian SpiridonPublished 3 years ago in Poetsmusicians in cali
A time with those who made me feel alive Laughing till our bellies ached with no cares A salty breeze amidst soon fading skies
The White Dragon
There’s darkness about. There’s ice in the air. Can you hear his call? Beware! Beware! The White Dragon is coming.
Princess Redhead
She was a loving girl, And a beautiful daughter. Everyone loved her, With her heart full of laughter. She was caring and kind,
Time
Title: Time Time is just a four-letter word, but highly significant in this world. It never talks to anybody, but it is in everybody’s conversations.
Em HoccanePublished 3 years ago in PoetsSongs Filled the Night Air
the June drizzle of the day soon gave way to patent tunes from new indie rockers, and the crowd continued to sway and play
Jillian SpiridonPublished 3 years ago in PoetsThe Three Cats I Found in Summer
I was sixteen and he was all orange fur, perfect for cuddles and slow somber nights; he let me coax near to draw out his purr,
Jillian SpiridonPublished 3 years ago in PoetsSections
sections If apathy was my drug of choice,then ambiguity is the high I find at the end. teetering on the edge, I enjoy gravity at its finest.
Em HoccanePublished 3 years ago in Poets