Top Stories
Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
I Confess
Where do I begin, but with an apology if I was not the daughter you had hoped for or wanted me to be. Then you sent a birthday card.
alphabet soup
A bowl full of letters brothy and warm curing the soul down to the bone Enjoying the alphabet from A to Z gathering of figures
Just Breathe
Breathe in. It hurts, I know. You feel the pain pulsing in your rib cage, spilling over the edges of your day and pooling at the bottom of your gut.
D.S. FisichellaPublished about a month ago in PoetsARFID
Chemicals in a can. There's no tagline about containing Real Cheese Because there's no semblance Of anything real, And to say so would be a lie,
Rachel Hannah FendrichPublished about a month ago in PoetsRegret
Yellowish colors painted in a vanilla sky, demons portrayed in recollections Brush strokes of Monet, karma calling home, horizons bleeding with sins
The Invisible WriterPublished about a month ago in PoetsEgg Yolk Dreams
Isn’t it strange, my yearning for the yolk of an egg, As a child, it was breakfast’s cherished ache. Now, it’s my father I miss,
I Guess It's Spring
It's spring, I guess. Green shoots poking up by my mailbox, Every day a smidge taller. They won't change their mind and start shrinking,
Sonia Heidi UnruhPublished about a month ago in PoetsOn Being a Man
“You’re a pretty big wheel, ain’t you?” my grandfather asks. Words tossed my way from a green armchair in the dark corner of the front room
F Cade SwansonPublished about a month ago in PoetsExistential Evanescence
Favorite: Evanescence The eventual & inevitable fate of all At least this side of eternity. . Least: Existence
Randy Wayne Jellison-KnockPublished 4 months ago in PoetsFor A Moment
It's all happening so fast, but all in the best ways. Every morning I wake up to your texts wishing me a wonderful day, then some sort of compliment about me to follow.
Angel AdagioPublished about a month ago in Poetsthe truth sits heavy
whatever didn't wake the monster, was most likely my afternoon food of choice. a silent snack, on silent feet, tiptoeing through the hall,
Heather HublerPublished about a month ago in PoetsSonder
Nervous whispers in a busy place. Before his eyes, a hundred lives have passed, a hundred people all going their different ways. The weight of it is crushing to the sleep-deprived mind. The weight of knowing, without being able to feel, that every weary traveller he sees is just as real and complete as him. That every over-tired passerby who skates past or slightly lingers near where he sits and writes is just the same. Hiding truths and potentials no one else will ever come to know.
Alexander McEvoyPublished about a month ago in Poets