Ode

Who Dwell in My Life
I raise my voice to the sunrise‑kissed horizon, where every amber strand of light is a braid of you the laughter of a tide that folds into another tide,
By Forest Green7 months ago in Poets
A Row, A Row, A Row...
a paper advice act now an electrical stat a medical stat a row of a row of subjects and "fats" a bask to kick it with in bed and enjoy carousel electing stats googling... are eyes not stiff but stuffed? up and down passed mail a lift from the average a buff? but don't care really I an amateur athlete being rows and rows and rows of "bad" "bad" "bad" cholesterol. Thank you for reading! Which part of the poem resonates with you? Share your thoughts! Please leave a comment. Copyright 2026 K.A. Smith
By K.A. Smith7 months ago in Poets
I Left Pieces of Me in Every Word
Words were never just words. They were pieces of me scattered between every line. I wrote to escape, but somehow… I got closer.
By Ibrahim 7 months ago in Poets
When Silence Called My Name
I walked through days that never stayed, faces passing… leaving nothing behind. I smiled but my smile was only an echo of something that was no longer there.
By Ibrahim 7 months ago in Poets
The Ink That Trembled
He held the pen like it could break, as if words were fragile things that might disappear if pressed too hard. He had so much to say—
By Ibrahim 7 months ago in Poets
The Poem That Waited for Him
The poem didn’t come to him suddenly. It waited. In unfinished thoughts, in moments he ignored, in feelings he almost understood.
By Ibrahim 7 months ago in Poets
The poem that was never read
He used to write poems no one ever saw. Not because they weren’t good. But because they felt… too honest. Each line carried something he couldn’t say out loud.
By Ibrahim 7 months ago in Poets
Self Improvement
Corruption closes in on me. The vices try to take my mind, But virtue's grace will set me free. I wish them love and liberty,
By A. S. Lawrence7 months ago in Poets
A Children's book
The thin book you must open To find what still is there A glimpse of what is waiting Memories of four wooden chairs The smell of Saturday morning.
By Raine Fielder7 months ago in Poets
No Stone Unturned
There is no where you could have hidden You couldn't go under ground to hide from a heinous act which was forbidden You could not erase the deed that you had done, which was crime ridden
By Susan Payton7 months ago in Poets
Ode to the Washing Machine
Oh, mighty white domestic thing, I love the way you fit my decor, And how you make the laundry swing, Inside your round and glassy door. Day in, day out, I take you for granted. Just mindlessly put some laundry through. But when my son stares at you, enchanted, It makes me think: without you, what would I do? When I was young, and we were poor, By hand I washed, rinsed, wrung: it took so long! The torture that my hands had to endure... 'Cause Grandma thought child labour wasn't wrong.
By Sasha Desideri7 months ago in Poets
Cubs Win! Cubs Win!
The Cubs of '16 rose to claim their due, One hundred eight long years of endless night, Through drought and goat and shadow, they broke through.
By Clyde E. Dawkins7 months ago in Poets