Top Stories
Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Sappho’s Daughter
Even the tulips yield to the sun— Collateral beauty admidst the sin of man Lust, among the seven deadly, I may Infused genetically, the capacity to love is irrevocable
Summer RobinsonPublished 10 days ago in PoetsMen like us
Men like us trudge in mud under Russian fire while callow others load the missiles. [-] Men like us, those poor we hate
Housekeeping
Reading glasses swinging back and forth, dangling from a drug store string slung around my neck I said, to myself of course, I never want to wear this kind of thing. But now I do, sometimes. I like the idea of relaxing, being a comfortable woman of the home, swinging open the door in a batik housedress, casually welcoming someone in, pets or as the French say, animals for company, something like that. As if pets had no other reason to be. Years of watching women folding, unfolding, refolding socks, sheets, dinner napkins, a lot happens in those moments of freshly laundered piles heaped onto the sofa, better the dining room table as long as it’s clean of course. My grandparents hung it all out in the sun, flopping away without a care, ironing sheets was necessary. When my paternal grandmother died, the very night she passed over the clothesline, into the black heavens sprinkled with sequins of silver, she came to me in a dream. I stood at a table folding clothes, I became aware that there was someone next to me folding as well. I first recognized her hands, red and wrinklie, with age spots. “Nanny?” I didn’t look toward her; she said in her most comforting southern way, “Don’t be afraid.” Then I turned toward the left looking up, up, up, and there she was all in white, a long crisp gown, fresh and smiling. “I love you.” She’d spoke. Then she was gone.
Liqueur of the Heart
Consider the word consider. From the Latin "considaire", meaning "to observe the stars", the word can be broken up into con (with) and sidus (heavenly body) - but there's no need to break anything up to understand.
Marie WilsonPublished 11 days ago in PoetsRainy Skipping
Skipping around town, the coolness of the downpour, with no umbrella.
James GreenPublished 10 days ago in PoetsTraveler's Choice
One pale petal clings To my backpack. Pluck it, or Let it be our guest? ~~~~~ Appreciation to Hannah Moore for her generous invitation to step into her writing space and join the dance of the Renga. See her breath-catching first stanza, Yūgen.
Sonia Heidi UnruhPublished 13 days ago in PoetsInvaluable
Easing up the mountain on a spring day. Coming closer to the clouds for a better view with a lens beyond pure, and deeply understanding its
Real PoeticPublished 10 days ago in PoetsFutility
I am an unwilling spectator, Eyes magnetised to the crucible Unable to withdraw. I watch as you rant and rage,
Obsidian WordsPublished 10 days ago in PoetsBecoming Eleguá
Eleguá, the divine trickster, was first known as Eshu, the Canvas of darkness upon which the world was cast Light? What does it even mean, what purpose does it serve, when the cosmos is You?
Lily SéjorPublished 17 days ago in Poetsapple on the tree
a reaching hand clasps around the apple on the tree and lowers it to me my heavy wooden basket clenched in both my fists
angela hepworthPublished 29 days ago in PoetsThrough the Window
It’s been one year since you left my world, and one year since my heart left this room. Every night, I look for you through the window,
Cathy holmesPublished 11 days ago in PoetsOur Sovereignty
Visitors, wolves, slyly cloaked in wooly white fur, Claim your island in the middle of the Pacific but seize an available one.
Tony MartelloPublished 12 days ago in Poets