Top Stories
Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
My Dearest Little One
I’ll admit sometimes I don’t want kids. Not because I don’t like children. I love kids. And I would love to have a family. But I feel like it is irresponsible of me to have kids. That I am bringing someone into this world that is going to have to deal with the consequences of my decisions even when I’m no longer here.
Erin N HandPublished 2 years ago in Poets
Lost in the Light
My Dad always said he knew I was going to be an artist because I was crying before I had even completely left the womb. He said he used to write down the words I would speak out loud before I learned how to put a pen to paper because he knew that once I knew how, I would start writing poetry. And I did. He was a writer too. Not a crazy famous one or anything, but his poetry did get published into a few books.
River GilliamPublished 2 years ago in PoetsThe Light of History
Memories and flashbacks are scattered on the floor As images of the present barricade the door. I stare at the ceiling into stars of the future kind
Patrick O'ConnorPublished 2 years ago in Poets
Poetry + Journaling + Scissors = Happiness
Some people search their whole lives for the meaning of happiness. We ask questions like: • What makes you happy? • How to find the true meaning of happiness?
Katlyn CampbellPublished 2 years ago in Poets
The Cut-up Poem
WRITING A CENTO Writing is my passion, my craft, my life, my hobby, my career, and so on. It constantly supplies me with love, happiness, and overwhelming stress (do any of your loves and passions not stress you out?). The best part about writing is the challenging intensity that comes with constantly creating new art and life through words.
Issie AmeliaPublished 2 years ago in Poets
Hey Mumma
Hey Mumma, it's me. Feelin' a little lost, are ya, honey? Thinkin' you're gonna take off then honey? But Mumma, you know. That I'll always be okay, and that I'll come back to you one day. Chase your dreams, Mumma, that's what you say. A lesson you taught me, taught me to get me where I am today.
Belinda LongPublished 2 years ago in Poets
I Was The Guest and He Was The Honor
Many hours in the Rover Crossing landscapes Roadside towns and fields of tea. *** Oh the turning heads and big brown eyes
Kimberly Hampton NilssonPublished 2 years ago in Poets
Sonnet for My Father
“Fickle dancer of mine pumped up my thighs with helium,” I say. Helium, strange word to use for love, but it can disguise
Summer Itch
Stepping softly into cold winter’s night When trees are just sulking ghosts in the snow Shadows surround me and the cold wind bites
L.A. HancockPublished 2 years ago in Poets
Love in June
In June, the blooms reflected like fair stars; we walked the woods by the cool, gentle stream. She whispered to me the secrets of her heart;
Heath HardinPublished 2 years ago in Poets
Life in Rosa Mexicano
Bright blood gallops fierce and free through the veins of every Latin heart. The substance that fuels dance, and a burning passion for being alive.
Marina FortuñoPublished 2 years ago in Poets
The Evergreen Painting
When he died My saturation fell to twenty percent Days faded like a sepia movie With him all life's color left . But then simple things
Natalie SpackPublished 2 years ago in Poets
