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.
Lightning in a Bottle
“Tom,” the old matriarch bellowed, addressing the boy clad in tattered clothes sitting in the chair in front of her. The candlelight cast shadows upon the creases of her face as if they were writhing black rivers. “Thomas, can you hear me?” The boy did not answer.
C. H. ParkerPublished 3 years ago in PoetsWhat is, what has yet to be...
The unexpected grey area as the mists would then appear, A sudden hindrance towards clarity, the desire for a seer, The confusion and worry, the air so close and tight,
Jordan ZunigaPublished 3 years ago in Poets3:4
Bicentennial re-hear them sing: “go to the moon and do the other thing.” continue to write amongst the sign of parsley, sage, rosemary, & thyme.
Tehn DenciesPublished 3 years ago in Poets3:6
The time of written end draws near at left side binding center’s stare. Hear mind shall on continue flow to notice curse, and then let go.
Tehn DenciesPublished 3 years ago in PoetsMemories & Poems
Memory is a mysterious thing, sometimes you forget what you believe is important, and often times you remember insignificant details of your day, some people even remember that which never happened. I think it can be called illusion.
Helena SoaresPublished 3 years ago in Poets3:3
Time told becomes a simple construct… A coded message towards the conduct of one hear decodes all the points don the salve on eyes anoint.
Tehn DenciesPublished 3 years ago in PoetsThe Motion of Atoms
“And so the english word Plague was at some point derived from the Latin plāga which had several meanings: stroke or wound in classical times, or in post-classical times, affliction, illness, or plague – particularly as a sort of divine punishment …” I paused for a moment to look at some gulls sailing overhead toward the williamsburg bridge, adjusted my scarf, then continued reading aloud.
A.T. FickelPublished 3 years ago in Poets3:2
Fear of commitment strikes fear itself, fore everyone deserves some help… Here’s hoping such may cometh soon for null assistance surely dooms.
Tehn DenciesPublished 3 years ago in Poets4th & Too Short
One hour till the championship game. Now it was time for shame or fame. I had dreamed of this moment since I was small. I knew that this game would top them all.
Wolé Marville Sr.Published 3 years ago in Poetst i m e
Words. Simple, precise, complex. Letters upon letters. Written page upon page. Contained within two small covers.
jharnejukePublished 3 years ago in PoetsThe Artist's Spirit
He threw me to the ground, so devastatingly sure in this action that he spared not even a moments glance to watch me crater against the bar. He left me lying there in that shadowed, stained, and pungent nether region where so many forgotten things meet their end. And honestly, I didn’t entirely blame him. I knew why he had done it, but still, naivety had woven the fanciful hope that in all we had shared he might have come to love me not for what he wished me to be, but for what I was. Now it seemed clear, as tepid pools of clumsily-spilt beer slowly soaked and wrinkled my body, that I had been a fool.
Topo MokokwanePublished 3 years ago in Poets3:1
And Ark may have a leak or few while yielding each line in by two in hopes to brave the threat of rain while trying keep hear mostly sane.
Tehn DenciesPublished 3 years ago in Poets