In the United Kingdom it's October which means it's Black History month and this year's theme for the UK's Black History Month is 'Reclaiming Narratives' which is about revisiting history and taking ownership of the stories about culture, contributions and identity that define people from the black community.
By ᔕᗩᗰ ᕼᗩᖇTY2 years ago in Poets
Welcome to the mosh pit Stay home If you’re afraid to get hit There are no enemies here Just friends and good times Our music doesn’t always rhyme
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Lessons must be learned. Teachers, the things, and those unexpected. But the lessons will be learned. Abandoned at birth.
By Cynthia Fields2 years ago in Poets
My brain decided, “No work today,” It packed its bags and ran away. It left a note that read, “Good luck! I’m done with thinking, I’m off to chuck.”
By Ƒนʀƙเ ฬʀเτєร2 years ago in Poets
Then suddenly, life as she knew it came crashing down before her… in jagged fragments, boulders in a landslide. So, she waited for the dust to settle.
By Annie Edwards 2 years ago in Poets
Palaver - unimportant or meaningless talk. Merriam -Webster The word of the day is Palaver, not Wednesday I say it makes sense when certain people are talking today
By Denise E Lindquist2 years ago in Poets
Echoes of Longing In the quiet of the night, I hear, The echoes of your voice so near, A whisper on the wind’s soft breath, A haunting song of love’s regret.
By Sazeeb Chowdury2 years ago in Poets
Silent Yearnings In shadows where my heart does dwell, A love unspoken, none can tell, Your gaze, a light I cannot claim, A silent yearning, endless flame.
The gemstone of Life Radiant and prismatic You’re shining through us
By Colleen Walters2 years ago in Poets
In the quiet dusk where shadows sway, The winds of memory softly play. Whispers of time in fleeting flight, Chasing the remnants of fading light.
By Iram zahid 2 years ago in Poets
I hate that I need you More than you need me I wish that You needed me The way that I need you Without you I lose everything
By CotardDelusionz2 years ago in Poets
My shoes sink into the dirt beneath them, gripping tight the soil and debris of a town of nothing. There's no special scent or sound,
By Annie Kapur2 years ago in Poets
