Filthy

The First Kiss of a New Dawn
In the quiet hum of the breaking day, Where shadows linger, yet fade away, I felt the touch of something new, A spark, a light—so pure, so true.
By Masood Zahidabout a year ago in Poets
Falling Forward in the Dark
I stumbled first, then lost my way, Each step a bruise, each breath a sway. The darkness wrapped its cold embrace, A never-ending, shadowed race.
By Masood Zahidabout a year ago in Poets
I am an act of rebellion
Tales of long-lost love, where a princess yearns for a man’s plea To be redeemed for her desolation, waiting for someone who sets her soul free.
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Poets
Red
Stops you in your tracks Make you pay attention Sometimes alarm you It can be vibrant Catches your eyes Find it sensual
By L.I.Eabout a year ago in Poets
The Spider and the Fly
اک دن کسی مکھی سے یہ کہنے لگا مکڑا اس راہ سے ہوتا ہے گزر روز تمہارا One day a spider said to a fly in a gentle way, "You pass this path so often, yet never stop or stay."
By Ahmad Dostabout a year ago in Poets
The Shape of Grief
Grief does not knock— It enters like dusk, Filling corners with shadows And silencing clocks. It creeps into morning With yesterday’s name
By Allen Rihababout a year ago in Poets
Northern Light
Snowflakes write poems in her hair, Each step a verse, each breath a prayer, She is the fire in frozen air, The quiet grace of those who dare.
By Mr Aliabout a year ago in Poets
projected. Content Warning.
the levels of decorum rendered discorporate. unwanted, waste, refuse, trash, as the boy acts cats called doggedly like he thinks himself a monarch,
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
5/1/25
I sit here hugging the ocean And yet I hold nothing Choking on tears of fear Of futures lost Was it just a stepping stone
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
A love letter to everything I have survived
Darkness in its deepest sonder, desolation in its truest bareness, all embraced my shattered skin, Enclothed in the tightness of survival, the light that belied in its invisibility propelled me to keep my hope akin.
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Poets
red light misfits. Content Warning.
the sufferer who hates to be thought of as a victim the witness who knew before we did and the narcissist who couldn’t care less
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
Nightdreaming
He sat at night, and he couldn't stop thinking about her. His fingers traced the rim of a whiskey glass. He had necked that whiskey, trying to bury the feelings that threatened to devour him. Now, he once again filled his glass. Once again he downed the brown nectar.
By Karen Caveabout a year ago in Poets