Free Verse

Fill in the [redacted]
My [redacted] for you was visceral, viral, and vicious, tangible enough to pick up and throw it If you had your way, you likely would —
By Raine Nealabout a month ago in Poets
Iambic Pentameter
Running, I don’t think of writing as other writers claim to do. Does this make me selfish? Why must I always? Or is it just guilt for wanting deep immersion? I don’t want to be a fast old man I'm wanting to be the fastest old man thinking only, running only, pacing only, breathing only, symmetry only, da-Dum da-Dum da-Dum da-Dum da-Dum until the Red Winged Blackbird upon a wires threatening call follows from pole to pole to pole swooping occasionally overtop with brazen dives. I can feel his wings beat close, has he ever aspired to be something other than scion to his progeny?
By Gerry Thibeaultabout a month ago in Poets
Non Nonchalant
I want to be completely chalant hand in your back pocket an open face locket let them think I've "lost it" let them judge me for all the ways I'm loving throwing kindness like confetti they might not be ready but who ever is?
By Ellie Hoovsabout a month ago in Poets
Tomorrow Is Too Full Of Yesterdays
Tomorrow Is Too Full Of Yesterdays Tomorrow is too full of yesterdays It blocks the path that helps you get by Tomorrow is too full of yesterdays Too full of you and I
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Reflection
look n the m rror and sm le. see the one everyone sees and knows. The daughter The l ttle s ster The conf dent The n ce g rl
By Leslie Stavenabout a month ago in Poets
The Price of Choosing Self
I have been vilified for many reasons. For doing something creative— “It is a waste of time. It does not bring money.” For exercising my interests—
By Seema Patelabout a month ago in Poets
The Little Bird
The Little Bird a little bird sat on a branch, so quiet and so still, he tilted his head and looked at me, as if he knew my will.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
Follow The Black Cat. Grand Prize Winner in October Challenge.
Pint-sized panther paw pats Pink Ladies; prizes plummet: piloerection Apple orchard tizzy Salem's look-alike swats premature grounders with her tail Eastern grey squirrel bounces across golden brown leaves Omen crouches, clicking her teeth Placing each paw carefully on mid-autumn's blanket Whoooosh Indian Ladder Farm gates swing wide Distant murmuring, chatterbox children Approaching underfoot crunching, rolling wagon's creaking moan Tenderage handclaps— twig SNAPS 9-lifer skedaddles, curling up in an old Maple trunk hollow Plop, plonk; apple pickers rattle baskets Off-target Evercrisps thud, roll, settling next to windfalls Mulch made boozy, new grounders make potent comrades Wafting intoxication triggers wiggles; in-limbed licorace's nose Trailing human feet, twin emeralds GLINT Jean jacket moms hand out plastic bags; tiny hands stretch Thwack-Thwack-Thwack One flaps away atop a hard-to-reach branch Bat out of hell, shadow floof BOLTS
By Marilyn Gloverabout a month ago in Poets
Too Much. Top Story - September 2026.
You tell the earth not to quake The longer I hold it at bay The more savage the shaking You order the sun not to shine In the long, frigid night You cry over withering vines
By K.B. Silver about a month ago in Poets
Let's play a game. Content Warning.
Let’s play a game— they always said, before it turned to sticks and stones, and splintered wood on bones, . Laughing and joking,
By Chel Writesabout a month ago in Poets
Until Morning
And if I close my eyes will you catch me when I fall? And if you don’t I’ll reach the floor and I’ll pretend you’re still there that you caught me and we both fell down. And in your arms I’ll say “It’s been a while. Look how bony you’ve gotten how solid you’ve become… how strange.” And you begin to chuckle so I’ll keep them closed. Until morning comes and I’ve forgotten if it’s your warmth beside me or the sun. I’ll stay there. At least until we meet again as long as you stay by my side
By Lorissaabout a month ago in Poets
The flower that caught fire
The flower that caught fire I woke up this morning with a fire in my head, and found a little flower where I thought my dreams were dead.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets