Ode

Churchkhela!!!
My landlord gifted me Churchkhela A famous Georgian power snack. Made of walnuts coated in thick grape juice, It goes back thousands of years.
By Lana V Lynxabout a year ago in Poets
You two? No not you, yes you two
She’s not as nice as you all like to say I’ve never described myself in that way I have always said I am kind not nice Your treachery has earned you that price
By Cadmaabout a year ago in Poets
Letter To The Sunset Watchers
People say they love watching sunsets. They gaze upon the burning sky for a few moments. They think, “Wow, that’s a pretty sunset” — maybe even verbalize it. They alert their friends at the spectacle, provoking an impromptu photo-op. With their backs facing the sunlight, they snap a couple pictures. Some dimple-revealing grins, some pursed-lipped glances, some dead-panned profile pics.
By DJ Nuclear Winterabout a year ago in Poets
Ode to Christmas
Drape the garland around the Douglas Fir Green, red, blue, silver and gold Bulbs you can see yourself in Snowcapped rooftops glisten with blue, white snow
By DJ Robbinsabout a year ago in Poets
Let's not talk of snow
Let’s not talk of snow so soon, While we still have a few full moons. Summer has just slipped away, Fall has only begun its stay.
By Homayra Adibaabout a year ago in Poets
A Robotic Shakespearian Soliloquy
Friends, Robots, Artificial-men, lend me your gears! Voice-command 'Havoc!' and let slip the cogs of war! There are more analytics in heaven & earth, whole ratios, than are programmed into your technology.
By Lightning Bolt ⚡about a year ago in Poets
The First
You were the first The first I could trust with my heart Now the world is tearing us apart And I don’t know what to do Because I’m not me without you
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
The U.S. Open's 75th Anniversary for Alumna Althea Gibson
Where is Althea? Where is Althea?... Inside! Inside! Two Cups! Two Cups! Raise 'em high! Raise 'em high! Thank you for reading! Which part of the poem resonates with you? Share your thoughts. Please leave a comment. Copyright 2025 K.A. Smith
By K.A. Smithabout a year ago in Poets
Confessions of a grieving disabled workaholic
My trip to San Francisco was supposed to be the greatest trip of my life. In some ways it was and in others it wasn’t. As I grow older, as my disability progresses and as my grief deepens, it sometimes feels like I’m constantly under attack. Like no place is safe for my body and no hands are safe for my heart. Grief is not something you overcome, it’s a tide you pray won’t crash onto you at the worst possible moment, and when it does, you learn to deal with it. Or at least I suppose, I’m not there yet.
By Allie Pauldabout a year ago in Poets
Moments, Not Minutes.
I am almost at the age my aunt was when she passed away. I had just turned fourteen in April and we lost her in July. Now I'm in my early thirties.
By April Kirby.about a year ago in Poets
Under The Sun With Grief.
When the sun is shining and there’s a smile on your face, the one you love is always there. Grief stands under the sun with you and enjoys the warmth, as if the bitterness it usually holds has melted away for just a little while. The smile on your face is a crutch for the grief, allowing the weight of it to disappear.
By April Kirby.about a year ago in Poets
Deoxyribonucleic Acid (The Not Applicable)
Caught the DNA? Can't... cause hides a bit. Could more mean less, when it comes to genetics? Marker's marks— just parts left on the strand... "markfulness." There, marks for deletion ... on the board and not be at risk. Only land marks, wouldn't for a living floor? ... walkin' with. Thank you for reading! Which part of the poem resonates with you? Share your thoughts. Please leave a comment. Copyright 2025 K.A. Smith
By K.A. Smithabout a year ago in Poets