Prose

Zelda
Zelda stands tall in the jungle, an Amazonian matron with secrets stitched in bark, amazingly steadfast, with a gray disposition — aged and wise,
By Tony Martelloabout a year ago in Poets
DENIM HIERARCHY OF NEEDS. Content Warning.
I was thinking about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and Pavol’s bell yesterday and today. We live in a world of chaos brought upon us by patriarchal men & a society of crooks, thieves, & liars. I thought that we would never go back to the dark ages of white patriarchal Christian narcissistic men. Here we are in the dark age where light shines through the dark night to weed out the greed of ugly white men who have dicks for brains.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Autumn ritual
We danced in the heat of Autumn's bonfire, embracing fevered bodies flushed with lust and adoration. his glistening skin
By Jennisea Standing Rockabout a year ago in Poets
Haiku of autumn
The leaves decompose, the taste of cider and ale... fall has awakened.
By Jennisea Standing Rockabout a year ago in Poets
Hunt. Winner in Poetry of the Hunt Challenge. Top Story - September 2025.
Across a salt-stained strip of sand, a wolf noses his way through the driftwood. What he seeks, he knows not, but his jowls water for a prey
By Stephen A. Roddewigabout a year ago in Poets
Learning the Way
I didn’t know the way. I chose wrong so many times. Every false path bruised my feet and scratched long, deep streaks across my chest. I looked for signs and signals, but despite their purpose, they didn’t know the way either. You kept a light on the entire time. I saw it, but I didn’t know what it was for. I chose the simple routes, clean, clear, and flat, hoping the easiest road would get me there. It did not. I reversed, and your light was still on. It was dimmer, but I could still see it. With my new bruises and scratches and memories of dead ends, I now understood why you never told me what the light was for. I followed it, and now I’m home.
By Matthew Agnewabout a year ago in Poets
Toys
Turtles and legos don’t mix. How could they? The size, flexibility, vulnerability, and ability to adjust to these modern times just simply cannot align. The purpose of them is even different. One is meant to change and explore and go up and start over and change again. The other mimics a singular point in time where the outcome has been decided and your options are limited to the path another built. But I figured it out. I even brought the stiff, muscular ones into the mix. I built a whole conceptual world. There were goals, hopes, enemies, saviors, bystanders, twists, and a power that they all must either contain or vanquish. Did you know they could all do that? Did you put them together, in the same place with a shared focus? Their dreams were just so different! But you aren’t supposed to use their dreams. Use yours. They are much better.
By Matthew Agnewabout a year ago in Poets
September 24, 2010
sitting in the deepest hole there is no more place for me to go i wandered the streets waiting for a sign but on this one way path
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Poets
Holding Light
I cup happiness like water in my palms, watching it seep between my fingers no matter how tightly I press them together. Each drop precious, each loss
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Poets
BLIND LOYALTY
A mythic tale of blind loyalty, corrupt charisma, and the descent into unadulterated evil not as a political exposé, but as a fable, a warning, a ceremonial reckoning.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Admiring Orchestras
8/12/25 11:51pm I don’t think I’ll ever learn to play violin, or Write something that sounds like a crescendo The way I hear it in my head,
By Olivia Dodgeabout a year ago in Poets
Ghost
I am becoming see-through, a watercolor left too long in rain, bleeding at the edges where I used to be solid, certain, mine.
By Parsley Rose about a year ago in Poets