Free Verse

From myself to myself
I cry real tears, while your eyes are dry I run from fears, while you hold none inside I’m scared to see myself, and all that I’ve become
By Edward Val7 months ago in Poets
The Sunday Girl
The Sunday Girl skips through the seasons and wonders if Sunday follows Saturday, or is it, rather, a prelude to Monday? Her Spring Sundays are filled with morning light and birdsong, while
By Andrea Corwin 7 months ago in Poets
Teah's Dance Recital
They had recognition for 5 years of dance, so I'm guessing it is four years that Teah has been dancing. Her group is going to National competitions this year. She loves to dance however, her younger sister is backing out of dance. She has been in dance also for four years.
By Denise E Lindquist7 months ago in Poets
Glass Jar
Caught at the bottom of the glass jar, the grasshopper sits unable to free itself through the holes up top-- slits wide enough for oxygen to ensure it survives,
By Victor Eaves7 months ago in Poets
Cold Room at the Top of the Stairs
Cold Room at the Top of the Stairs There is a room above the house, where warmth refuses to stay inside, no matter how long the fire burns,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 7 months ago in Poets
Same-Song Edens. Content Warning.
He speaks through his groin in the pale morning for the sake of leaving sparkling sperm on his man’s feet in the spartan room made for gods and
By Paul Aaron Domenick7 months ago in Poets
What I've Learned
Students often know more than you think they do. Students often know less than they think they do. Kids don't care what you know.
By Julie Lacksonen7 months ago in Poets
The Next Right Thing
The coolest dude I ever met, the one man who taught me more than anyone, * was named Diego Mondragon. * I met him on a train called the Texas Eagle,
By David Muñoz7 months ago in Poets
The Knock After Midnight
The Knock After Midnight It begins when the house forgets sound, when even breathing feels too loud, and the dark settles properly in,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 7 months ago in Poets
The Invisible War
I know I’ve been quiet… more than usual, more than I ever intended to be. And I’m sorry for the way it may have felt like I disappeared. The truth is, I didn’t leave, I’ve just been trying to survive something I didn’t quite have the words for until now.
By Zakari Runge7 months ago in Poets
Procrastination
"Good Man" won't reread itself, and there are so many details to capture, skewer on the point of a stiletto, shish kebab of words,
By Harper Lewis 7 months ago in Poets
Kafka. Top Story - April 2026.
Early April evening; New York balcony Spiritual download: Kafka KAFKA KAFKA... I know the name somewhat. Generalities; not enough
By Marilyn Glover7 months ago in Poets