Family

Killer wasps from the farmer’s barn
Killer wasps from the farmer’s barn There was something wrong at the farmer’s barn, the cows wouldn’t go inside, the horses kicked at the wooden doors, then turned and tried to hide. The farmer said it was probably rats, his wife said leave them be, but something buzzed in the rafters, and it didn’t sound friendly to me.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about 10 hours ago in Poets
BLESSINGS OF MY LIFE
BLESSINGS OF MY LIFE And so much more ^^ ^^^ I look at the men before me Seeing the boys from my past. They’re grown with families of their own.
By Margaret Brennanabout 12 hours ago in Poets
The Chair Across From Me
The house keeps the shape of whoever left. I do not say the name. I let the first note do that work. A kick. A snare.
By Overdrive Recordsabout 12 hours ago in Poets
Empty Space
Once, every room was filled with need a cry, a question, a tiny plea, “Can you help me?” “Will you stay?” “Can you fix this?” “Not today.”
By Anthony Chanabout 17 hours ago in Poets
Belladonna in the Window
The berries outside the living room window are red beyond reason; Bright enough to make freshly fallen leaves look old and broken despite their ochre hue.
By Autumn Stewa day ago in Poets
THE FROG ON THE LILY PAD
THE FROG ON THE LILY PAD A little frog sat on a lily pad, Just floating on the pond, Little salmon fish swam round him, And he watched them all so fond.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk a day ago in Poets
The Last Light On
At first, the rooms simply grow larger. A chair goes unused. Fewer shoes gather by the door. Then one day you notice the house has been learning how to live without them.
By S.E.Linna day ago in Poets
Trials Pt. 1
It was a Tuesday that changed her life, A Tuesday where a mother spawned from a wife, Laying down dreams of subtle possibilities,
By Michael L Neuhausa day ago in Poets
I Do Not Write the Word
I set two plates out of habit. Yours stays the color of the table. I pour the water you will not lift. The glass keeps its circle.
By Annam M Gordona day ago in Poets
Recipe For Six
Take down the blue bowl, the one with the hairline crack. It makes exactly five cups of batter if you scrape it clean with an off-color spatula.
By Autumn Stewa day ago in Poets
THEY WILL HAVE THE DRESS
They talked about the colors, the lace, and tulle. High heels with thin straps that glittered. Their lashes, hair, makeup, and fingernails, too. Never once did I join their conversation, nor did I consider those things myself. When it came to my wedding, it was much the same. My dress borrowed, a Sunday’s best, but for a wedding, it was basic, even for a guest. It wasn’t made for a bride; it was made for me. I never dreamt of better, it just wasn’t for me. I was no Cinderella, not even for one night.
By Kass2 days ago in Poets
MANIFESTING MY HUSBAND
MANIFESTING MY HUSBAND Dear darling husband-to-be, Before I manifest you, I’m writing down the little things I’ll rather expect you to do. You won’t know me and I won’t know you, So we’ll get a few things right, I’m putting all my wishes down On this piece of paper tonight.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 days ago in Poets