Am I ok? I think I'm ok I feel ok, should I not be ok? I mean, probably not, since my brain has morphed into a heap of old necklaces, all kinked and knotted and wadded up into one big mess of...
By MELISSA BAILEY2 years ago in Poets
Signs from my higher self keep landing in front of my face. My own voice whispers “It’s the Matrix, not a race”. Guess I’m both Neo and Morpheus, my own self I’m trying to wake.
By Kenneth cruz2 years ago in Poets
The faucet drips like it’s counting something, not sure what, maybe the spaces between the seconds that nobody notices The fridge hums, like an old man with a secret, too tired to share but too stubborn to keep quiet
By Donna L. Roberts, PhD (Psych Pstuff)2 years ago in Poets
In the deep calm, where silence dances, I often stray, in a huge world. My thoughts fly, light as feathers, Weaving paths, through mist.
By Linda Goodman2 years ago in Poets
How long can an echo echo? (echo echo?) (echo echo?) the vibrations of your lips on my skin slow into shadows of soft mellowed hertz
By Paris Rosemont2 years ago in Poets
Adventure awaits in the dark Come, don your wings and witness pure magic, as the moon devours the night Offering wanderers sweet crumbs of knowing, satisfying the hungriest of hearts
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Poets
She wasn't there in the hollow of the melting when the snowbells came to whisper softening revelations of a wanted dawn. She was shaken. Colder tremblings of something
By E.B. Johnson 2 years ago in Poets
The lightbulb is flickering and everytime the light changes it feels like the grooves of my mind are dragged under the needle of a record player.
By Josey Pickering2 years ago in Poets
Why am I seen as less than you, just because I curl up with a woman at night? Together we dream of a place where we aren’t judged for holding hands.
Someone asked how I am able to express myself so freely in some moments, yet bewildered & stunned to silence in others. As if I’m faking one and not the other.
We cannot stop the progress of humanity. But we can take the time to remember its cost - the animals we should call our friends.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin2 years ago in Poets
I detest those days where my mind is a jumbled ball of yarn, Where I, the weaver of that mind, can’t seem to untangle the threads,
By Jennifer Vasallo 2 years ago in Poets
