Free Verse

How I Raised the Dead
I was circling because I smelled something fresh-- and then, I saw it lying in the ditch; something had destroyed it, and all that was left were bits of torn carnage, and I picked and pecked and devoured the flesh. Yes, I always swoop in when I smell a death. - Blowflies hummed in the darkness upon my swift descent; pungent were the frenzied maggots, sweet the ripened season's zest. Glimmers from the gloomy crescent glittered silver still duress; bones laid bare in the garden, red the flowers painted carcass. - Harken, hell-bent brethren to how I raised the dead-- having trailed exsanguinated innards o'er vacant heads!
By Sara Wynn2 months ago in Poets
Be My Boo
Alright, the newest writing prompt is: Write a poem that makes October feel like a place you can enter. Sounds fun, so let's do it!
By Rain Dayze2 months ago in Poets
Call to Uncover
And you heard the Sea calling. Her gentle, waving voice Cutting through the monotone of daily life. Quiet at first, That you mistook the call
By Rachael Anra2 months ago in Poets
Ghosts
I thought about Michael fondly, viscerally— could see him, hear his voice, feel his hands. I let the music flow through me,
By Harper Lewis 2 months ago in Poets
Something Wicked This Way Comes
E xurban streets run rictus with manifestations E tymology meets Cosmology metes the red brick road E verything leads down Morrígan's ruby-wrought path E nter and light the first pyre, soon illumed thirty more E xhalation knocks on sovereign doors of raven war E burnean hand of prophecy, can you feel it?
By Edward Swafford2 months ago in Poets
To be Had
If I give you the sun, will you give me the moon, and stars? - If I give you my dreams, will you keep them from me? If I give you the mountains,
By Sara Wynn2 months ago in Poets
October
If you want to find October, do not look at the calendar. Calendars know nothing about October. They will give you thirty-one little squares and expect you to believe a month can fit inside them.
By Brenda Fluharty2 months ago in Poets
Dominance
Dissemble gives air to backgrounding lull, cha-chunk cha-chunk cha-chunk of motion falls her hair over my baron chest as light as air briefs moments in her pensive stares. Weight, coil, the silence of dominance as to a cogent narrow body. A sound between two masses, nary a ripple wakes as she slips in to water so convincing as a mothers gentle rinse swaddles a baby bare in a basin . A natural depression between two masses.
By Gerry Thibeault2 months ago in Poets
When Silence Speaks
a musician uses rests as more than places to breathe it is important contrast... silence speaks . . when meditating, one opens the mind
By Julie Lacksonen2 months ago in Poets
THE WEIRDEST GHOST CAME TO TEA
THE WEIRDEST GHOST CAME TO TEA At half past three one morning, A knocking shook my door, I found a ghost in slippers, Just floating off the floor.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
The brightest frame
The brightest frame I found an empty picture frame behind a dusty door, its golden corners broken, its glass upon the floor.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
Once, There Were Fields
Look, over there, On the horizon where skies turn pink Then orange and red There once were glimmering fields that grew lush and tall
By Shequinah Rayanh Nanshanapa2 months ago in Poets