Ode
October Breakwater
October is a breakwater you step onto, slick stone and salt breath rising from the Atlantic’s throat. The air tastes like cold pine and the ghosts of summer bonfires. The tide pulls back, revealing the long ribs of the sandbar— a road the ocean only allows for part of the day.
By Syl De'Vil4 days ago in Poets
Looming October
The air becomes threadbare. Colors thin, almost translucent. Sound frays and breaks the deafening silence. October moves through the unraveling of time, its limbs plucking strands of reality like harp strings. Each pluck summons a ghost woven from memory’s loose ends.
By Syl De'Vil4 days ago in Poets
the sounds of silence
THE SOUNDS OF SILENCE 9/9/2026 1130AM The title is a cliche', a song of great repute even. But like all things, it means something different to each person. I love the song and the cliche' but it has a different meaning to me. It is that bandaid that i talk about that one rips off and the pain is there, but it doesn't heal. It will always be there. This is about my grandson.
By Victor Mendez6 days ago in Poets
Just Minutes Before
And maybe I’m reading into it, I tell myself it’s burnt a little then eat it anyway ‘cause I’m hungry. If I knew all the words for touching my hands would be free for feeling, touching all the words I can't reveal, my hands would be free of feeling. But here I am on the top step feeling, topless, feeling speechless feeling numb feeling, topless feeling—folded over feeling sun feeling my head hoovering— folded over no feelings feeling no words feeling my head hovering inches above the concrete feeling no feeling.
By Gerry Thibeault6 days ago in Poets
