Stream of Consciousness

"𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣"
"October". That's all the website said that popped up on my screen, and the address to a train station I didn't even know existed, about an hour away.
By Colleen Walters8 days ago in Poets
Lost Things
The days have lost their meaning and shape What mattered most is gone Yet a core remains within me, one I guard Significant only to me, to no one else I know it is good, this thing of greatest value The opinions of others hold no weight here They have already spoken, that I never wrote it down That they will not read it; they ensured that would be the case Even though I wrote it under their influence To help them understand themselves To heal what was broken within them It matters not, they will not reach for it anyway It seems to me they have stepped onto a path of no return Flowers bloom, yet they cast no fragrance They boast of their colours, while I see only rotting roots There is no room for healing in their homes For long ago, they abandoned themselves Pretending nothing happened, that everything is fine I suppose I see things differently than they do And so, I must be punished for being myself Yet in reality, they are punishing themselves Using the cruellest weapon: the neglect of their own souls
By Sun Bee8 days ago in Poets
A Recipe For Success
Riding the same wave from the past Was never beneficial anyhow How to tell the next one he reminds me of the former one? That’s just not going to work So many types, so much wasted time The list is endless, stretching on for miles Who would want to count those lost days? Better to just forget Take what matters and let things flow There is still so much To be written in the story’s pages Get the girl and save the world Or get the guy and break his spell Because he won’t become the next hero, no way! Spend a few months with each story Then appreciate what you have There’s nothing more to do or say As new, good characters emerge From the bad ones of the past There’s a chance to keep the rhythm going Move boldly forward, leave the regret behind Besides, in this scenario, it was never meant to happen anyway
By Sun Bee8 days ago in Poets
Non Nonchalant
I want to be completely chalant hand in your back pocket an open face locket let them think I've "lost it" let them judge me for all the ways I'm loving throwing kindness like confetti they might not be ready but who ever is?
By Ellie Hoovs8 days ago in Poets
the strange thing about photographing a wedding
the strange thing about photographing a wedding  is knowing while everyone else is living the day i am watching it  disappear. the dress hanging in the window  before there is a body inside it your mother fastening the last button  with hands that once  buttoned your childhood coats your father seeing you  and suddenly forgetting  whatever clever thing  he meant to say. click. keep that. the nervous hands the crooked boutonnière  the friend on the floor looking for an earring someone laughing  in the next room someone crying  and insisting  they are absolutely not crying.
By Nicole Olea8 days ago in Poets
Follow The Black Cat
Pint-sized panther paw pats Pink Ladies; prizes plummet: piloerection Apple orchard tizzy Salem's look-alike swats premature grounders with her tail Eastern grey squirrel bounces across golden brown leaves Omen crouches, clicking her teeth Placing each paw carefully on mid-autumn's blanket Whoooosh Indian Ladder Farm gates swing wide Distant murmuring, chatterbox children Approaching underfoot crunching, rolling wagon's creaking moan Tenderage handclaps— twig SNAPS 9-lifer skedaddles, curling up in an old Maple trunk hollow Plop, plonk; apple pickers rattle baskets Off-target Evercrisps thud, roll, settling next to windfalls Mulch made boozy, new grounders make potent comrades Wafting intoxication triggers wiggles; in-limbed licorace's nose Trailing human feet, twin emeralds GLINT Jean jacket moms hand out plastic bags; tiny hands stretch Thwack-Thwack-Thwack One flaps away atop a hard-to-reach branch Bat out of hell, shadow floof BOLTS
By Marilyn Glover8 days ago in Poets
What Remains
I have to leave you to your narcissism now You can pick whoever you want for your twisted games Someone better suited to ensnaring you The time spent with you is gone forever I listened and wept with you, in sorrow and in joy Whenever the story turned bleak or blissful Now you must face the demons that haunt you every day Someone else will take part in your sordid schemes Since you stopped replying, claiming otherwise Your company was poisoned by irrational excuses Concocted by doctors and fake librarians You no longer need to pretend that everything is fine Because it isn’t, at least not for us That light had a different hue Than I had previously imagined It’s a good thing someone, at least, pretended to be in control of it all For our own sake But this is the end
By Sun Bee8 days ago in Poets
Premature Grief
Sounds morbid, I know, but I can't get it out of my head; I'm struggling to grasp how one day he will be gone, and I will have never truly known him. He will have never truly known me. What is an acceptable way to mourn someone who should've been connected to you since birth- but wasn't? The only thing I'll have to remember him by is my own reflection: green eyes and a habit of stumbling over my words when my brain fills up past its capacity. I only know that he does that, too, because my mother told me. She also told me we both talk with our hands an abnormal amount when we're angry, or excited. What I mean to say is that even my knowledge of him is not my own. I will never be able to tell funny stories about him or reminisce about father-daughter dances. His absence has led me to think of him as if he was an alien; a foreign being that came down to Earth for a blip in time, and then never returned. How do you mourn someone who, in your brain, never had the intention of staying on the same planet as you- even after subjecting you to carry around their DNA for the rest of your life? Where do you put the grief when the time comes? And more importantly, how do you stop thinking about it before it has even happened?
By allison9 days ago in Poets
Celebration September. Top Story - September 2026.
The scent of aster wafting on the breeze Bringing with it the promise of a bountiful harvest Trellises covered in brightly colored morning glories
By Mother Combs9 days ago in Poets
What do you love?. Top Story - September 2026.
What is it that you love in others, in the world? Go do and be that! This is how we replenish the planet with more of what we love about it. Do you love those who are patient with you? Go be patient with someone who tests you. Do you admire those who do charity work? Be charitable. Give your jacket to a homeless man, bum him a cig, too. Do you love mountains and clear lakes? Go and fucking see them! Do what you can in your own personal life to keep the place clean, pick up trash and try to make less waste, clean up a random park nearby, it may not be mountains, but it's all part of the same thing, our dirt roads and our homes live on the same rock flying through the vacuum of space and that is a mighty magical thing. Do you love whimsy and philosophy and writing and painting and dancing like an absolute idiot? Do it!! Be it!!! This is the only time you'll ever have as yourself, we make the most of it by living as what we love to experience, that is one's mark on the world, what they bring into it.
By Lolly Vieira9 days ago in Poets
FLY
FLY (Yes, the pest) written sometime in my past I'm contemplating the moments as I sit wondering.. wandering aimlessly.
By Victor Mendez9 days ago in Poets
Pyrite Hope
Your sapphire smile held open this hope, hinges rusted wide the [DO ORS] Leaving all of me exposed set free my heart ran wild The light of you began to pool thru D E E P It glitters in the corners of this mausoleum my soul ...wondering is it the light, or I, that is Pyrite.
By Ellie Hoovs9 days ago in Poets