Free Verse

Fractured
From out of a clear blue sky, a spate of pain and cloudbursts of sirens flood a steamy candy apple intersection. So then, every bite of steak is like a morsel of ancient sunlight.
By Pixel Floyd9 months ago in Poets
Blueberry Hibiscus Parchment
I peeled my eyes from the neighbor’s front door had to dig my nails in scrape the stuck stickers off I blame it on the frosty air
By Michele Nampalli9 months ago in Poets
𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟
Alliteration All about alluding as its iteration.
By Colleen Walters9 months ago in Poets
Keeping Darkness At Bay
It's been warm That kind of feeling Like you've been at the beach all day The birds are out, singing a song You feel every want to sing along
By Analesia Giammusso9 months ago in Poets
Remains of her
She never fully left. What remained stayed behind— quiet fragments of her scattered through the way I see the world. She lives in the words I use
By Krizzia BW9 months ago in Poets
Under Bridges
Humility, some call it virtue or a black labs slow crawl across the floor moving one paw at a time slowly towards you dragging its belly
By Gerry Thibeault9 months ago in Poets
For the Sins of My Papa
For the Sins of My Papa They shot him at the back-end bar no flowers grew, just broken tar a whisper gone beneath the light
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 9 months ago in Poets
What Would You Say If You Were Here Today?
Do you remember back in 2012? When everyone thought the world was going to end? The Apocalypse. Everyone was in some frenzy about what they were going to do with their last moments.
By H.E. Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, COIE, DFM, DHM9 months ago in Poets
THE THRESHOLD SERIES
Companion PrefaceThis work was not written to persuade, teach, or elevate.It emerged because something quieter asked to be honored.Vesper Rising lives at the threshold—the place where identity softens into presence,where healing is not a project but a consequence of staying.Vesper is not a persona.Angela is not a character.They are movements of the same consciousness—arrival and inhabitation, dusk and lamp-light, opening and remaining.What follows is not metaphor for metaphor’s sake.It is language shaped by the body, by lived integration,by moments when silence spoke more honestly than explanation.If you are looking for answers, this may feel unfamiliar.If you are listening for resonance, it may feel like recognition.Nothing here asks you to change.Nothing asks you to agree.The invitation is simpler—and braver:to notice what settles while you read.Let this be a room, not a mirror.Let yourself be witnessed without being analyzed.If something in you exhales,the work is already complete.— Flower InBloom
By Flower InBloom9 months ago in Poets
The Giver of Names. Top Story - February 2026.
The wind whispered secretively, “Be afraid…” And you whispered back “I will” And this truth was locked away. The fire roared seductively,
By Adam Kolozetti9 months ago in Poets
Who I Want to Be
I want to be the woman who doesn’t need the gaze of others’ eyes to feel beautiful. I want to be the woman who knows, bone deep, that she is enough as she is, even on the days she feels awkward or unsure.
By Tina D. Lopez9 months ago in Poets
After the darkness, we rise
Gentle, my soul. Light kisses the earth and again, we are here, pulsing breathing chasing dreaming hoping bleeding
By Eden's Visceral Opus9 months ago in Poets