Prose

My Body is a Barometer
The morning opens with a quiet ache - not pain, exactly, but the body remembering to brace for the cold. - I feel it first in my spine,
By Autumn Stewabout a year ago in Poets
The Quiet Threshold
The fire crackles softly, more ember than flame now. I watch as the smoke curls low, flattening under the damp scent of spruce and leaf rot.
By Autumn Stewabout a year ago in Poets
Sending It On...
Only believing when seeing is a trap. Reflection, electing the truth; proof found in memories, a time lapse, is fondness found. I grasp it. Pieces of the promise, yesterday's smiles. Yesterday's wishes granted. The delight in the daylight, light-hearted moments: Love, Laughter, Heart's Embrace. Sending it on...
By Marilyn Gloverabout a year ago in Poets
loyalty. Content Warning.
requested for commitment to the ambiguous. dedicate to it: verity. faulty funds invest in broken. diminishing dividends
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
“Echoes Across the Clockface”
“Echoes Across the Clockface” A mythic song about time, aging, and the universe past, present, future This story, known as an Outstages Story, is a legendary narrative set across Spain and Italy, featuring time itself as the main character in a café setting.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Tracking Marimba
Autumn is an earth-based Broadway. I enjoy the show: bronze, crimson, golden-trimmed trees- captivating backdrops with many a fine actor, singer, dancer, entertaining me. Apple orchard pickings, red stripes, blush, yellow-green- Fuji, Gala, Honeycrisp, Golden Delicious- I eat it all up. Romping squirrels, spiraling leaves, wind-scattered chestnuts, weather shifts, pumpkin patch surprises-- jackolantern galleries in intermingling oranges- they all meet my heartfelt applause.
By Alpha Manabout a year ago in Poets
He Called It A Gift. Content Warning.
They’ll say I wanted it— the promise, the prophecy, the shine of something sacred But it wasn’t a gift. It was a hand too heavy on my jaw,
By Brie Boleynabout a year ago in Poets
The Road to Manifesting Wealth
The Road to Manifesting Wealth I walk a road paved in intention. My pockets empty but my heart full. Each step a seed. Each breath a spark.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
When the Fire forgets My Name
The fire was once my friend. It hummed like an old song, soft, trembling against the cold bones of night. Each spark carried a memory —
By Rai Sohaib about a year ago in Poets
because why?. Content Warning.
influence, inspiration, authority, or control small talk is lazy and irresponsible unmotivated and difficult making hard work.
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
The Spirit Who Mistook My Craft for a Shortcut
“The Spirit Who Mistook My Craft for a Shortcut.” You think it is just a video. A flicker. A scroll-past. A thumbnail in the feed.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
How Much Space Does a Man Need?
I find it interesting that the richer you are the more goddamn space you take up. Palaces swallow acres, while the rest of us rot in the broom closets and cupboards of America. Yachts drag their fat bellies across the water while men claw for a door or a table— rats fighting for a plank in the shipwreck.
By Sandor Szaboabout a year ago in Poets