Through short lived days and moonlit skies,In stolen looks and mollified sighs,A fire was ignited, unfaltering and true,An ash gleaming, shinning as unused.
By Mr Ali2 years ago in Poets
The Wicked Man Who Popped the Balloons There once was a man with a terrible frown, Who lurked in the park at the edge of the town.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Drip down slow An undesirable ooze An irritation of skin, the burn, the acidity Everything is heavier on the inside Cotton-filled, foggy, weighing down sensations
By Oneg In The Arctic2 years ago in Poets
Oh, my love, when night descends, Your concert of chaos gently begins. A lullaby? No, much more grand— A roaring storm, yet unplanned.
By Tale Weaver2 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
I’ve been called many things in my lifetime, Some complimentary, some not so, But I pick and choose those that I allow to define me,
By Colleen Millsteed 2 years ago in Poets
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.
(to the tune of 'It's a Long Way to Tipperary', for anyone old enough to have heard the song) It's Elon's way and you'll get nothing
By Marie McGrath2 years ago in Poets
I don't have a podcast I don't have a clue I can barely do Facebook And Instagram too. ------- I lose my phone daily My keys disappear
You keep roses in the air, You weave dreams in my words with care. When you touch, the colors wake, When you speak, the moonlight fades.
By Muhammad Ahtsham2 years ago in Poets
The Fishy Catch Out at sea with pipe in hand, The captain grinned—his luck was grand. His boat, so small, yet packed so tight,
Whom do I mean? I think he’s obscene From his tip to his toe To his bright orange glow. Braggadocious from birth Are there worse men on earth?
