Stream of Consciousness

The Last Flash. Runner-Up in The Last Flame Challenge.
One green dot burned neon, violently blinding at the edge of the world. I am aghast for the sound of which escaped me.
By Jessica McGlaughlin10 months ago in Poets
The Power of Place
I've always felt the presence of a “genius loci” - that subtle atmosphere around places. It followed me wherever I went though I don't think I always consciously noticed it.
By Sun Bee10 months ago in Poets
you used to call me blaze
i wish you'd use me as a match, strike me against all the rough surfaces, sandpaper, the sidewalk, your own edges. you used to call me blaze,
By Daniel K10 months ago in Poets
Faceless Desires. Top Story - December 2025.
As I lumber Padded, hidden Heavy with glorious light Endless pockets Bulging, overflowing Yet sown up tight Glittering memorial dust
By K.B. Silver 10 months ago in Poets
What's In A Name
I might answer to at least, more than one hundred names some left a wound the others left me changed And I can't take them back, I wouldn't if I could
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden10 months ago in Poets
When We're Gone From Here. Content Warning.
When the dust of our existence Is naught but a memory And this world repairs the damage Done to her by you and me, Where will we be?
By Dana Crandell10 months ago in Poets
Corner of Minds?
It has to be dark Light second everything the people has to be blind while inside but living "the daily-life" Or else the scene so not quite Has light light light be secondary The last line a fight! Remind sports lights going going going outside and winter — doom the lines slanted upwards Be careful Corner bends light. 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. Smith10 months ago in Poets
A Beautiful Death
If life is a cloud then, death is the rain Falling like a shroud over ash in a grave Searching for a flame or a spark to get started
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden10 months ago in Poets
Between the Doors
I stand at a crossroads that doesn’t look like a crossroads at all— just a cracked sidewalk with signs pointing everywhere
By Vnessa Hdz10 months ago in Poets
that ol' christmas box
i found an old box of moms christmas decor in the back of my walkout closet i sat in the living room watching tv when i finally decided to rummage through it
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden10 months ago in Poets
The Celtic Cross That Carried the Roses
Every flame begins with a rupture. Every rose blooms from a fracture. This is not a ritual of control, but a ceremony of creation.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 10 months ago in Poets
Kisses After Chaos
We had a fight that started over nothing— a spoon left in the sink, a look you misread, My tone doing that thing it does
By Milan Milic10 months ago in Poets