Prose
Lost and Found
A man wanders through a desert, paying no heed to the ephemeral path his feet etch in the sands. He walks without seeing, and he steps without looking, because he despairs to discover the truth: that he is all alone in this world, and that there is not the smallest drop of compassion available to quench his roaring thirst. So dessicated is his soul that, were he to stumble upon the waters of life amidst his circles under the stars, he would perhaps mistake them for yet another mirage and pay them no mind. How did he get here? Such things are long since lost to him, hidden behind the veil of forgetfulness which protects him from the part he played in making this mess.
Insinq DatumPublished 5 days ago in PoetsThe Unreality
I exist in a universe you cannot comprehend A world with no beginning or end An unplanned existence Full of survival and resistance
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 days ago in PoetsBe the love you so actively seek
The horizon awaits the embellishment of its blending hues, To be dazzled in its beauties, to be unafraid of the unknown mighty blue.
Hridya SharmaPublished 6 days ago in PoetsThe Eyes That Never Close
What does a voice say when it has brushed eternity? What words suffice to sum it up? Composed they sit...Silent. Resolved, they act out their narrative in the weathering blue stone that ages even the innocent. Wizened beyond their childlike forms, they weep with the rain and whistle with the wind. They who see, but do not speak. The watchers of the world.
Abbey NessPublished 7 days ago in PoetsJournal Prose Chronicles: Specific Questions...Muted Answers
What does it feel like to let go of everything? Are you able to do that? Even for a few minutes? Seconds? What happens when you do? Are there crashes? Explosions? Does life as you know it end or begin?
The Dani WriterPublished 7 days ago in PoetsSnack Beneath the moon
Amidst the darkness, I hear the song of Raptors rage Their song different, more like a bird in a cage singing to the pitter patter of rain in the night
Kenneth cruzPublished 8 days ago in Poets5/20/24
The view astounds As the word bounds from the top to the ground I find what was said to not be found My soul resonates sound
Atomic HistorianPublished 9 days ago in PoetsIdle
To wait is to suffer. To exist in stagnancy is an act of misery. I write in hopes to uncover the reason behind this state. This sensation of impatience makes no sense to me.
BrettNotGregPublished 9 days ago in PoetsStrange evolution
Strange aeons Under earth Becoming stone . _ Dug up By hairless apes Barely prey when Prowled the land Did I
Roderick MakimPublished 9 days ago in PoetsIf I were stung by a bee
If I were stung by a bee, Would the uncertainty of the writhing bane of living finally subside the menace of who we are deemed to be?
Hridya SharmaPublished 9 days ago in Poets- Content Warning
the whirlwind and the wildfire
he is a whirlwind - chaos incarnate - torrents and turbulence filling the air with debris that now lands in my realm, before the rainclouds form. a massive front of low pressure dragged behind his highs. but he doesn't know i am a wildfire. his winds give me oxygen to breathe, but he doesn't like the heat and his emotions rain down. stormy tears to put the inferno out. the blaze of my fury subdued. his winds have changed direction, for now. exhausted by his own friction. the earth my fire burns left to renew as it needs to, parenting inventive convenience, for the cycle must continue. but the whirlwind returns, so curious, wanting to be close, and still unaware of how he affects my wild heart of fire. so, i burn and i hiss and i glow. a climax of explosive instinct - a natural reaction, but a hazard nonetheless. and the world demands i put my fire out and block his tornadic gusts. do it or they will do it for me, before they carry on about the weather, "... what a dangerous idea for the wildfire to be so reckless with the whirlwind..."
⸘jason alan‽Published 10 days ago in Poets The Questions Remain Unanswered
I stare at the massive collection of your bones, meticulously organized to paint your image, and I’m struck with further curiosity:
BrettNotGregPublished 10 days ago in Poets