He had an idiot’s face, a rat’s eyes, and a buffalo’s body She had a harlot’s face, a cat’s eyes, and a sow’s belly He wasn’t handsome and he darn well knew it
By Lightning Bolt ⚡about a year ago in Poets
Beneath the old oak’s fading shade, Children ran, and laughter stayed. Streams would sing with washing hands, Men would play, and hearts would dance.
By Life Hopesabout a year ago in Poets
A dim witted, suit fitted, Calvanist mortician Me an embalmed, tag along, severe lack of contrition Fluorescent divine darkness, cubicle coffin, purgatorious condition
By Harrison July Hamlettabout a year ago in Poets
The grasshopper lies heavy on a single blade It bends with its weight Swaying in the breeze As the grasshopper rubs its knees
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
There we were, happily writing on a perfectly normal day scratching our heads and imploring the right words to appear like magic from the gods of thin air
By Antoni De'Leonabout a year ago in Poets
Why Am I so hungry ? Maybe it's because I write poems about love, maybe it's because it's September 4th and I love the taste of it all
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda about a year ago in Poets
Beneath the trees I sit, at the place where roads divide. One path calls with promises, another whispers my name in silence.
Scarlett O’Hare lounged against a large tree, appearing picturesque as usual. She scrolled on her iPhone in the shade. “I created a new app called Instadam, where you can post all the random things that… quite frankly, you don’t give a…”
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Poets
Did I— the garage door— did I close it? the garage the click the hum the roll down I think so no I didn’t maybe did I? Check
By Sara Littleabout a year ago in Poets
Often, qualms set up camp on our amygdala and serve as tiebacks for our eyelids – and their preferred hour of operation is the
By Jose Antonio Sotoabout a year ago in Poets
The Three Kings King one, he was a tight arse, he spent only on what was needed. King two, he was a minimum eater, he was a skinny little bleeder.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Prisoner to the Cell Phone In a cell with walls so bare and grey, An old lady sat, had a chuckle and say, “Now I see the reason, the clever pun,
