Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
the longest strand i held too dear lay in my arm crooked and narrow. sometimes i’d pull it out and hold it to the light
I Found You
The world I lived in was void of color. The days were bland and empty. Everything was in shades of black and grey. Then one day I saw you.
The Shade of Disability
Aren’t photons funny? They reflect the only light they do not absorb. Are my wavelengths longer in red, because my energy is every color instead?
Will Mother Nature Brush Her Teeth?
I. Jagged protrusions of sturdy sediment banded & braced together. Soft pillows hang loose, full of the morning dew drop from her eyes and her mouth’s waterfalls.
Like the silky gossamer wings of a dragonfly, as it soars through the air, unaware of the trials and tribulations of those below,
I Am the Orange Sun
glowing inside i am partly what you made me from your home in Petah Tikva born under the desert sky i am fragments of my mother
The Conch Shell
A beautiful conch shell sits high up on a bookshelf in our hall. It has been kept up there to keep it safe from our daughter. It's precious and delicate, and although strong, I would hate to see any of its delicate whorls and peaks damaged. Recently, I began to look at it more closely, and I imagined the secrets it held, and the things the sea creature inside had seen over its long life. So, here is my poem,
I’m going to sit with my quiet, and learn to accept it! (I’m going to sit with my quiet, and learn to accept it!) I will ignite my fire, and burn through temptation!
What am I supposed to do now? It’s all over, After months of late nights together Huddled in the living room, Letting the hours fade into morning.
Anticipating the Blossom Before the Bloom
We become ourselves surrounded by the words we write, word after word, we write ourselves into being. . Building words first,
I Am a Published Author
I am a published author. Not just on the blogging sites I frequent, or the anthology collection of someone else's dream. I am holding MY story. MY imagination is in my hands.
To the Woman
To the woman who Smiles at the man Who makes the snide remark As you walk down past The street that takes you To work which pays your bills