I remember dead whale on the beach, enormous and small at the same time, Minke, not stinking like people said it would but not exactly emitting an aroma for sore noses either; we were told not to touch it so we compromised, one fingertip each.
By TheSpinstress 3 years ago in Poets
My favorite snack when I was a kid was apple slices and cheese. I’d usually say please. If I got what I wanted, it was a good day indeed. If I got double, my soul felt freed.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Poets
Bowling ball lump grows in throat, and tears well up from heart cistern. Desert dust drips from my freaking eyes, I run down where the rabbit hole lies.
By Rowan Finley 3 years ago in Poets
With stalwart heart and mind of keenest edge, The Logistician a pillar strong and sure, Doth tread a path of duty, virtue's hedge,
By Diorino Galvano3 years ago in Poets
With stalwart heart and mind of logic keen, The Logistician, a soul of duty bound, Through measured steps and purpose ever seen,
This prose reflects upon two childhood friends who took different roads in life. They cannot communicate because they have grown apart with different lifestyles and different viewpoints on politics and life.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 3 years ago in Poets
For Poppy's prompt "Write a poem about a specific day and make the title a date," in the FB group Vocal * Voices in Minor. ----
By Cathy holmes3 years ago in Poets
Hello little finch, a letter for me? I wasn't expecting though...let me see. Gosh! You have come to the wrong address! Your destination is far away from here..
By P.A.Vinura Jayasanka3 years ago in Poets
It amazes me how I keep on ticking on in the usual way when I know that my terrorist heart is building a nail bomb ready to slash up my life
Closing my tired chestnut eyes escaping my mundane world, I conjure up the most serene marine Eden, my artist vault can envision.
By Daphsam3 years ago in Poets
This is for Poppy's Prompt which you can catch here This week’s prompt: Write a poem about a specific day and make the title a date.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 years ago in Poets
1. Pen and paper, keyboard and hand; using these I flee, from my awful abysmal reality Troubled I am Most days, no one accounts for my existence, not a knock on the or even a useless piece of post
By Andrew Little3 years ago in Poets
