Beneath chaos’ dance, streams carve whispers through the stone, grace finds its own path.
By Printique Studios2 years ago in Poets
A gift or a curse? We cast shadows on our gifts— condemn them as cursed. --------------------------------- Previous:
By Jemma Jae2 years ago in Poets
Caption coldness: Winter whispers wind. Silent snowflakes softly dance. Too frozen to dream? @ WARWARA GOTLIBOVNA, 2025. All rights reserved.
By warwara2 years ago in Poets
Whisky Wave Whisky burns so dry. Milk and honey drip my lips. Fire hits more kisses. @ WARWARA GOTLIBOVNA, 2025. All rights reserved.
the Beast rolls the strip Felon rides in vehicle at Daytona track our tax dollars used to get admiration, fool Clown Town, your appeal
By Andrea Corwin 2 years ago in Poets
Crystal notes ringing Steady, calm, pure and lovely The wind chime dances
By Naomi Thomas2 years ago in Poets
Find a spot Pick up a book, open it Adventure!
By Mark Graham2 years ago in Poets
Icy water haiku On an icy lake she walked and fell through deep down life lost forever
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Fly me to the moon can we trust the rockets more doubting air safety ✈️ controllers were fired by the convicted felon no confidence now
The Frame Narrative The story begins with a prologue in which Chaucer introduces the setting: a group of 29 pilgrims gather at the Tabard Inn in Southwark, near London, preparing for their pilgrimage to Canterbury. The host of the inn, Harry Bailey, suggests that to pass the time, each pilgrim should tell two tales on the way to Canterbury and two on the way back. The best storyteller will receive a free meal upon their return, paid for by the other pilgrims.
By Mr Ali2 years ago in Poets
Black Pink Beige Black colors of the Human Race this is Pride Black
By Rodney Matthew Miller2 years ago in Poets
Life's blossom starts to shrivel in the setting sun; blooming tomorrow.
By Amber Allehoff2 years ago in Poets
