Free Verse
black swan
sometimes, i feel sad somtimes, i feel lonely sometimes, the black just never stops flowing. which way is up which way is down
Courtney AnnPublished about an hour ago in PoetsCold legs
Cold legs walking in summer Evaporates everything until winter Motivates Mankind to rise up (upper) When the sun slept in my bed
An Elegy for My Old Self
Here lies my past, a chapter closed, A version of me, once composed. Thankful for the lessons taught, In every battle, fought and sought.
Dominique AlcantaraPublished about 6 hours ago in PoetsWhen We Embrace Uncertainty
The dance of days winds through paths with twists, Where what's known and unknown quietly exist, Life whisepers in the breeze,
Dominique AlcantaraPublished about 7 hours ago in PoetsYou Abandoned Me at the First Smell of Stink
You made sure that my stink didn’t waft anywhere near you lest it stick. The stench you feared was the smell of truth and of vulnerability laid bare.
Inspiration
In the quiet of the night, where dreams take flight, There lies a spark, both bold and bright. Inspiration's touch, like a gentle flame,
You are one of a kind
I told her I loved her. She never said no. In the name of love, we will always win. Let your heart be next to mine. Let it be one heart, one soul.
Joe Bou KhalilPublished about 14 hours ago in PoetsLove is strong
Love is everywhere. In every place. At every step of life. It always stays. It never ends. Love never stops at any point in life.
Joe Bou KhalilPublished about 15 hours ago in PoetsWordology part three
Letter A for art love it through my poems from the bottom of my heart, Letter B for a battle have yours in your life strong like a king doing from his casttle,
el hariti adilPublished about 16 hours ago in PoetsMedicated Indy 500
In the fold tenfold since that drug fell out of the mold, you know the one. Raging buoyancy to hit every bend in the blood river, open forum to discuss the joined decorum deepening the chasm. Living in a head, half imaginative ass-kicker, never unarmed, half gore-demanding throwback phantasm. Handsome sum for the scars testing my lucidity, an infinity a stake with a measly 102,317 large lexicon in a humble-braggadocios estimation. Drawn to a level of certainty bequeathed at gunpoint or however you spell semantics. Fool God of antics. Frantic over everything, Spice Rack is a knife collection.
Willem IndigoPublished about 16 hours ago in PoetsF*ck Power, I'm searching for Peace.
Note: I wrote this free verse poem to try and capture a glimspe of the raw, blunt, and harsh reality sexual assualt and domestic violence survivors have to endure. Our dark stories don't have to define us, and when some choose to share their stories, it allows us to see that we aren't alone in these intense and oftentimes debilitating emotions. I wish I could console every survivor and hold them until they feel whole again. A piece of my heart is with every one of you. I hope one day your eyes glisten again with your spark, because the fire inside doesn't have to just burn; it can glow, filling your soul with renewed Hope.
Ariana YeagerPublished about 16 hours ago in Poets- Top Story - April 2024
new world
there is no escape from cement-bourne memories habits forced deep into genetics until they blend forwards with the self a cage familiar yet no less daunting