i shout wondering if this is not whispering and so the wind drives vehicles chariots of the impending from its beginning
By ⸘jason alan‽2 years ago in Poets
This poem explores the gentle soul of a man named Silas, whose deep connection with plants reflects his nurturing spirit and profound appreciation for the quiet beauty of the natural world.
By Xavier2 years ago in Poets
Spider webs and cluttered downspouts Tales that tell of pending doom Butterflies and I, hang around Like a crystalis inside my room
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Poets
---------------Start---------------------------- From whispering woods, a blur of tawny fur, He stumbled in, a wild heart unprepared.
Little children who are steadfast in the storm… After every storm, Your life will come to you, The best days! Dreams come true!
By Rohitha Lanka2 years ago in Poets
you still sit there, don’t you you still sit there, don’t you as if the world owes you forgiveness as if the air doesn't choke on your breath
By William2 years ago in Poets
They say " necked I come and necked I go.." is a lie My Creator is not a fool Am born packed with talents and potentials
By Irene Mugang Narewec 2 years ago in Poets
On lazy Sundays, after homemade lunch, I loved to hike into the chaparral wilderness. Walking under the oaks, sycamores, and cottonwoods,
By Seema Patel2 years ago in Poets
Our private world will be wider according to "Growing age" More experience More lessons More people we know We will start to discover and learn that
That’s not an ordinary sprawling sycamore tree. To me, it’s legend. Easily older than my grandfather, it must have lived a century.
Moon watching is so peaceful— in all its forms, waning or waxing, sparkling in the dark sky, or floating among the clouds.
Bitter greens Slithering unseen Through my dreams A strenuous subcutaneous existence Complaisance in a crime of the mind
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
