Top Stories
Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
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Pale Cheshire grin cracks black velvet indicative of some celestial cheekiness - what mischief does this silver eye spy
Sara LittlePublished 14 days ago in PoetsAfter a long week
After a long, busy week, Here I am. It is Saturday morning. I am alone. Resting. My window is open. A fresh breeze. There are a few light rain showers outdoors.
Gloria PenelopePublished 16 days ago in PoetsTemporary Trials
Each summer the bright feathers fade Change renders vibrancy to gray Lake or land bound for lack of flight Incapacity at first sight
D.K. ShepardPublished 15 days ago in PoetsWords I Wrote
I have no real confidence. I watch “success” after “success” After “success” and finally feel As if there is hope. Hope to succeed again.
Michael ButorovichPublished 16 days ago in PoetsLanguage Barrier (?)
My line of work involves a lot of time communicating across languages through an app, telephone service, or my new friend José.
Gabriel HuizengaPublished 15 days ago in PoetsLost in love
Eventually I came to realize love is not for me. It overshadows all else, posing as this thing to be adored, silencing the calls of the world.
Kari McLeesePublished 15 days ago in PoetsA lake of fire
Ever sinking deeper deeper Certain of the end pray sooner Life for me no longer meaning Inner terrors demons pricking Pyre of flames my flesh receding
Raymond G. TaylorPublished 16 days ago in PoetsIt's My Birthday
Elaborate birthday Celebrations have nothing on the Likes of this one. I get to blow out the sun, the Perfect gift. Satisfying a long held
Meagan DionPublished 15 days ago in PoetsIs This the End?
Everything stops Curious animals look to the sky Lunar position defies expectation Innocence is lost in the dark Power like that must come from a god
Leslie WritesPublished 15 days ago in Poetsfresh terror to love
woefully unprepared with my mouth full of famine, hands empty but my future beyond March when the nights leave with no warning
Mesh ToraskarPublished 16 days ago in PoetsLooking through fairy dust
The song of grandma and her oven hums a harmony, percussed by spinning whisk that dances ‘round the bowl in which it drums
H.H. CallaghanPublished 20 days ago in PoetsJournal Prose Chronicles: If Self-prioritization Were A Prescription…
Entries from my journal are only shared with my closest of friends, so beginning this series was not a decision taken lightly. Concentrations of my anguish, toil, love, ecstasy, and more exist between these pages.
The Dani WriterPublished 17 days ago in Poets