A special kind of joy blooms beneath the buds of a cherry blossom tree Newfound wonders a delightful epiphany played in brassy bright trumpet calls
By Novel Allen2 years ago in Poets
They call death a thing. They say that when death comes There’s pain. Loneliness. Fear. Tears. But they’re wrong. Death… death just is.
By Rachel Steinmetz2 years ago in Poets
Why is it That we only realize The depths of our fall When we’re all the way at the bottom?
Here I lay in my bed. Starring at the ceiling all night long. I can’t get over this feeling. This constant state of dread.
By Jasmine Harris2 years ago in Poets
I’m so over these sleepless nights. I’m tired of constantly fighting to survive. I’ve been struggling with the voices in my head.
Did you ever hear the tragedy of the man who sought wealth and status? We all must eat and to live comfortably is a treat, why is that a fuss?
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
A weaker soul would have erased it Never wanting to recall Nerves exposed, completely unfit Impetus as a tethered ball Vile and violent the memories
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Poets
i don't quite understand, how so often i stand in disgust, i can't quietly stand in front of the mirror and trust- how many times have i stood here in front of the glass,
By JM2 years ago in Poets
Abstract thoughts and swaying motions Narrow minds and Numbing deeds Images and magic potions Vying for varied parts of me
Q: What is the point of life if I am only to die like a fly? A: The point is to live, as great or small it may seem. Even a fly can impact and alter the world for ages after it should die.
By Kenneth cruz2 years ago in Poets
On wheels that hum with gentle sound, A baby bus, small and round. With chubby cheeks and twinkling eyes, It journeys 'neath the open skies.
By Abbas2 years ago in Poets
To let go is to realize that you are great the way you are. To let go is to be present, but ready for the future. * To let go
