vintage
Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
Parents' Footstep
You still walk in the same path Why or why not? You are too slow to change, Sloth You are waiting for the chances to rot
Tattoo Series
Tattoo Series prologue I was raised by a badass mother with some seriously cool ink. My older sister was a rebel from a young age, and she instilled in me a sense of IDGAF that I still carry with me to this day. Both women, along with countless media icons (Billie Joe, anyone?), inspired my love for body art. Folks with tattoos are the best of our kind. They have always fascinated me. I often find myself staring, wondering what each individual piece means to the owner. Maybe they mean nothing. Maybe they mean everything.
Amanda ReifertPublished 3 months ago in PoetsThe Falling Sun
The sun descends, a fiery sigh, Across the canvas of the sky. Its golden hues in shades now blend, Toward a night that will transcend.
Ata MuhammadPublished 3 months ago in PoetsMonths Poem
January stars fresh They call it the New year Joy spreads through bone and flush Resolutions line up fear already wasted a year, it's a sad song
I think about you every day
I forget what you look like. Kind of. You know what I mean. I won't look back to old photos of happier times. I can't. The artist in my mind cannot mix the colors to complete the outlined image of you. Is your skin still sun-kissed or are you working too much to spend days dancing in the sunshine? Does your hair still go down to your butt or have you cut it since? I haven't gotten over how indifferent the world is that you and I are not together. Distance and time don't fight fairly. I'm not an out of sight out of mind type person. You consume my mind on a daily basis. Quite frankly, you haunt my existence. It's true what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. But darling, I am fonded out. I famishly break into soup kitchens slurping the leftover mush of your entire being. I live off our memories like koi fish live off wishful pennies that won't be answered in passerby coin ponds. I create visions of us that never occurred and explore them ad nauseam.
🦋My Silent Battles🦋
It's not the pressure that keeps me awake that destroys me But the silent expectati0ns that await me The pressure and pain is building up and I d0n't think I can take this with0ut giving up
Agnes NyambuPublished 3 months ago in PoetsThe Gentle Beast
From the east he roams Having never found a home of his own Always dragging his stone with him Wherever he goes it goes
Atomic HistorianPublished 3 months ago in PoetsTo Be, or Not To Be
To be, or not to be, that is the question —William Shakespeare (Hamlet) * To be, or not to be; that is the question. The only question that encompasses
Echoes of the Metropolis
In the city's heart, where buildings rise, And neon lights paint the urban skies. Amidst the hustle, the frantic pace, A quiet corner, a hidden space.
Mohameen MoshoodPublished 3 months ago in PoetsBitter Greens
Bitter greens Slithering unseen Through my dreams A strenuous subcutaneous existence Complaisance in a crime of the mind
Atomic HistorianPublished 3 months ago in PoetsLove Language
Listening to slow jams in other languages I don’t speak their language But they hear all that languishes in my heart They cut through the pain
Atomic HistorianPublished 3 months ago in PoetsThe Abandoned Clock
The clock stands silent, its hands frozen in space, A monument to moments, etched on life's long race. The pendulum hangs still, no tick, no tock,
a broken heartPublished 3 months ago in Poets