Top Stories
Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Sigurd's Dream
The dead greeted me in the early morning with their delicate songs of Valhalla, as the wind awoke me from my blinding dreams of paradise.
Weirdo
It’s a challenge, this “be a better version of myself” thing, it really puts my head in a spin, I mean I’m a weirdo, I’m definitely no hero, but I just wanna be free and express myself in poetry,
Jess BoyesPublished 2 months ago in PoetsSpun
The storm is raging again I can feel the Spiral taking hold, This feeling so Familiar, old I'm cold And I try To stay within
Bex JordanPublished 2 months ago in PoetsThe Southern Cross
Traveled Down Under My personal mission under the panorama of the clear Fiji night sky was to find the Southern Cross among the stars.
Andrea CorwinPublished 2 months ago in PoetsEditor Syndrome
Missing comma Missing period Missing preposition That’s all I see Red marks and corrections But— Who am I to critique
Stephanie HoogstadPublished 2 months ago in PoetsBe You
It would appear we care too much What others tend to think Of things we’ll say and do and such That causes us to shrink
Earl W. PearlPublished 2 months ago in PoetsThe Mask
Play your cards right And keep on your poker face. Life is a game So you better play to your strengths. Only expose your weakness
Andre The FirstPublished 2 months ago in PoetsAllow me talk about death
For I know a day will surely come when he will visit me A day will come when he will take away all my loved ones and family
Acknowledgment Of Realism
This beloved imperfection of love Has embodies the tension of Our aching Hearts. As sweet as the Soul may devour Agony as Christmas
Hold The Cinnamon
I grew up poor, but I didn’t know it, lived in a shack and later a trailer, Mama was tired but she didn’t show it, living on tips that paid for our dinner.
Tammy CastlemanPublished 2 months ago in PoetsWhat Were We Thinking?
It's not simple, no step-by-step, no book on a shelf, a conversation eye to eye, a mother's answer, a father's certainty, a kiss at sunset, a bad choice righted, it's done, it's present, it's lasting, it's pain; it happened, it was, it changed you, it changed me, us, them, then, now and always. Words emptied into sighs, skies return to blue, endless, wander, wonder, was, is, could, maybe, only if's. Time, flying flawlessly like diving gulls, towering above one minute, swooping down into the depths of cold, green seas, tossing up a catch, feeding their newness screeching from the nest. Alone, every single atom feels the heart's imprint, good, bad, unknowing, what was yearned for, how it was sought, how it broke us into small bits of flesh to nourish our hunger for something, different, better, less or just kinder? You are who you are, your manner, your dress, hidden, or confessed, it's all ready, to unwrap, release, okay to live for. Don't pull away, nor withhold your dreams, your breath is mine, too. Let them pray, or cry, flail in their naivety; let go, surrender to the beauty of being here as you are, with or without me, them, approval or questions. On their knees, wanting desperately for us to be something other than who we are, it's their lack of Spring, of falling in love, their mourning regret. Never ours to behold.
Walk In The Woods
I don't bring a compass or a map when I venture into the woods. I just walk, and walk, and walk. Maybe I'll wind my way around to the next house over, the garden now overgrown and the occupant now far away. There'll be no friendly hello or offer of tea if I step out there anymore.
Kelsey ClareyPublished 2 months ago in Poets