Prose

"The Language of Tears"
In silence born, in silence fall, A whisper rolling down the wall Of cheeks that once held pride so high— Now drenched beneath a weeping sky.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
Smoke in the Shadows
Poetry: In the hush of night, he stands alone, A soul half-lost, in silence grown. Smoke spirals like forgotten dreams, Woven through moon's silver beams.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
"Whispers Beneath the Moon"
On the curve of night, where silence bends, A soul sits still as the dark transcends. Upon a branch that dares to dream, He rides the hush of moonlight’s beam.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
MEMORY STATIC
This a part of the Outstages Cafe series. The blue chair is the disappearing and reappearing object in this series of memory static, Blue Chair at the Edge. Step into the Echoes Beyond the Veil
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
The Tapestry of Life
I. The Dawn of Breath From silence sprung a whisper deep, Where stars and soil in cradle sleep, A breath was drawn, the first of flame,
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
Can't You Tell That I'm Lying?
⚡⚡ "I'm fine." 💭 I'm not. "It's fine." 💭 It's not. "I appreciate you asking." 💭 Why ask when you stopped listening?
By Lightning Bolt ⚡about a year ago in Poets
Petals Against the Silence
Petals Against the Silence By Sahil’s Reflection She leans on stone that does not feel, A mask of time, so cold, so real.
By Fazal Malikabout a year ago in Poets
Blue Chair at the Edge (2019)
This is a prose with characters and script. The idea arrived in my brain after feeling blue yesterdays of then and now from 2019 to 2025. It's about a broken relationship with a family member and the day I shot the photo of the lone blue chair looking out across the ocean from a cliff in Palos Verdes, California in 2019.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
A Mouthful of Plastic
They float in the air; they swim the sea, Small to see, now inside me. Everywhere, and in every bite, The sea creatures will surely die. Ten decades and they’re still not gone, Micro killers, yet we make some more. It breaks; it sinks into the sand, Invades the plants, animals, and Man. We breathe it in. It’s in our veins, In unborn lungs, and growing brains. We swallowed it in; we drank it deep, The danger that we happily keep. In labs and dreams, the future spins, From Man to Land, the change begins. We clean the world, and also thoughts, Restoring the planet our actions crushed. A cradle float, where plastics bind, Drawn by charge or magnet guide. Drifting with tide, it traps the waste, Restoring the blue with mindful haste. The coral reefs now beg for air, Still we dispose without a care. Would you not rage, would you not scream, If waste was tossed, where you must dream. They birth no more beneath the tide, No hatchlings stir, their young have died. We poison what we do not see, The ocean holds our apathy. If we act now, we can reclaim, Restore the earth; waste can't stay.
By Peace Oputaabout a year ago in Poets
Bluffing
"Can I buy you a drink?" 🍺 💭 ... if I promise not to tell you what I think... 💭 🍻 💭 ... ... ... 💭 ⚡ 💭 You're out of my league.
By Lightning Bolt ⚡about a year ago in Poets
My Mother ❤️ Your Mother ❤️ Our Mother
She walks with grace, no crown she wears, yet queens could kneel— Before her stare, Her hands are worn— from work and care,
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Poets
Echo in the Espresso
This is part of Step into the Echoes Beyond the Veil with Pookie & Vicki The veil is thin. The stories are authentic and,
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets