Free Verse

The Diary from Nowhere
A season of changing leaves— beautiful, wherever you look. Even here... beautiful, yet the air is cold, so cold. Who would believe a small, lovely house sits here, hidden in the deep woods?
By The Pen Soul17 days ago in Poets
My Sorrow-
You maybe under a lot of stress and never know how far you'd get. You could attempt to reach for the stars, with a backpack jet. However you could spiral back down like a circumvent.
By Dina Evans 17 days ago in Poets
October
My favorite Octobers Are the closest fights Winter and summer Cold and heat Death and life Battling And neither winning yet When the air snaps But the sun smiles Grass dies But trees flame Burning leaves wake up With frost outlines And the sky shines bluer And the clouds whiter From the chill That kind of October Tugs at my soul
By Lina Jank17 days ago in Poets
A demon visits the month of madness
It’s getting brisk, Just chilly enough to cuddle and flirt So conjure me now with a handful of dirt Etch my name on your belly
By Sam Spinelli17 days ago in Poets
The Door in October
You'll realize you're there when the air is cold enough to see your breath and the sun slants through the day. There's no marker for it, only a door waiting and smoke from someone's chimney inviting you inside.
By Edward Smith17 days ago in Poets
My Octobers
October, two years ago… It was the first time you brought me to this place. The air was painted beauty, brimming with the season of changing leaves. A cold wind brushed past, grazing against my skin, but inside the warmth of your embrace, the chill could never touch me. Beneath that maple tree… you whispered sweet words, breathing love into my ear.
By The Pen Soul17 days ago in Poets
When the Porch Lights Blur Into Stars
You will never be able to find directions to here. The road unfolds itself once September closes its last chapter, leading down a gravel road that sings of a town you half know.
By Edward Smith17 days ago in Poets
The Last Inn Before Winter
It won't show up on any maps. Once September falls, it becomes visible: a trail of gravel beneath you as you drive, as if you're hearing it speak your name.
By Edward Smith17 days ago in Poets
Box Elder. Top Story - October 2026.
Box Elder Bugs We played with them when we were little. Holding them in our cupped hands and giggling as their legs tickled our palms. Then we released them. They swarmed a broken old tree that we called the Boxelder Bug Tree. Now They Fly everywhere Their wings illuminated by the afternoon sun Brown spots against the rays When I want to go inside - There she sits (or is it a he?) on the sliding door. She sees me examining her. Her eyes watch mine Watches my movements, on guard I just want her to get off the glass door so I can go in alone . She crawls to a crevice. Okay, game on, little critter! I move the door, and she comes out of the crevice, then she leaves, sensing my irritation. I won't squish her. She knows that I think Why aren't the tree frogs and the birds eating them? I realize that I'd rather have her flying around inside , than the damned fly that has zoomed for days. I even opened the door for a bit one day hoping the dumbass would leave. Nope, the fly is still there and very cagey, very quick. Maybe dumbass isn't the right term for a fly that's managed to hang around when I want him gone. Don't leave the door open, I told the hubby I keep telling him I don't care if it is hard to open the door with your hands full; don't leave it open, not even a few inches. Stop it. The boxelders are crawling on the house, walking on the windows, looking for an entry point. When my daughter was a baby, she slept in my room near a tall window draped in white sheer curtains. She screamed one day, my baby, and when I went to her, the boxelder bugs were all over the curtains and in her crib, surrounding and frightening her. They must have looked so big to her. The vacuum worked. As a toddler, I took her to a river with friends, and horseflies swirled around her, and she ran screaming, totally petrified, and freaked out. The box elder bugs had traumatized my girl. Keep the door shut. Examine the entry before you try to enter; shut. no door cracked open. look in the cracks watch out.
By Andrea Corwin 17 days ago in Poets
123 Witches Lane
Everyone knows that you don’t go to 123 Witches Lane The lone decrepit house on the corner of the street With dead spindly trees and plants that looked like clumps of ash
By Joanne Oliver 17 days ago in Poets
The Month That Walks
There's no way to purchase a ticket to October. You stumble upon it while driving down a street that isn't on the map until September closes up shop.
By Edward Smith17 days ago in Poets
The Lover in the Shadows
The Lover in the Shadows He came to me one moonlit night, His eyes were dark, his smile was bright. He took my hand and held me near,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 17 days ago in Poets