First Draft

Trees
There’s much ado about oak trees on hills like they’ve accomplished more than a stand of river birch, a river-born copse of cypress,
By Harper Lewis 6 months ago in Poets
Warmth
is there anything better than being subject, muse? I found a poem today, handwritten, in pencil, folded up and into a book thirty years ago, seven after I found it
By Harper Lewis 6 months ago in Poets
Six Dollars
what I wanta know is if the kid spent six dollars, two for the room and four for the girl who was not quite fourteen until she smiled,
By Harper Lewis 6 months ago in Poets
Coy
what’s the point of a mistress who isn’t coy, doesn’t flirt with your Panama and welcome you into tropics (not of Capricorn, never of Cancer),
By Harper Lewis 6 months ago in Poets
“The Analog Human Moment
THE UNOFFICIAL ANALOG CHALLENGE: “THE HUMAN MOMENT” This is an unofficial community challenge for writers who want to work at the edge of their craft. The goal is to write a short piece under 800 words that captures a human reacting to a real circumstance in their environment. The tone must remain analog, grounded, and unmistakably human. This must be posted in the Human caregory.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 6 months ago in Poets
Sunset
Have you ever been nostalgic for a moment before it ends, felt a palpable poignancy in the very air, each breath more bittersweet, more aware, more beautifully doomed
By Harper Lewis 6 months ago in Poets
Tedious
Is there anything worse? Feeling yourself fall flat, all of your effort, your beautiful creation becomes something to be tolerated, an annoyance
By Harper Lewis 6 months ago in Poets
Black & Viole(n)t
black, blue, violent right angles stab quiet air still water not safe
By Tina D. Lopez6 months ago in Poets
Life Cycle
Recycle me, so that I may be seen, within the Evergreens, the Winter's cold. Hear my voice in the breezes in between. From these brown eyes make new soil, unclean.
By Lizzy Rose6 months ago in Poets
Sundown
Closed circuits, cycles in places and seasons, moments in time to live forever, escapes from the smell of cat piss and wet dog,
By Harper Lewis 6 months ago in Poets
Back Late
Oh. You’re back. It’s late. Very late. I’m angry with you. First, I hear you. Your key jiggles in the lock. Harsh, metallic, loud, unsteady.
By Jenifer Nim6 months ago in Poets
I Finally Understood
I used to think I was trapped. In a life I didn’t choose. In rules I didn’t understand. In a story I didn’t write. Everything felt like pressure.
By Vocal Member 6 months ago in Poets