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Qinghuan
When I was young, I read a lot of nonsense written by Su Shi and liked it so much that I can still recite it today: Slight cold due to drizzle and slanting wind,
THERESS MCMANISPublished 11 months ago in FictionThe Heartfelt Wish (Part Two)
Chapter 13: The Call of the Leviathan Amidst the echoes of the Leviathan's whispers, a familiar restlessness stirred within Alex's heart. Despite the recognition and the impact they had made, a deep yearning tugged at their soul—a longing to return to the source of their extraordinary journey.
The Heartfelt Wish (Part One)
Chapter 1: The Discovery The small coastal town of Haven-port was known for its tranquil beauty and the colorful tales whispered by the waves. Nestled between towering cliffs and a picturesque harbor, it was a place where time seemed to slow down. Among its inhabitants was a young fisherman named Alex. With sun-kissed skin, tousled hair, and eyes that mirrored the ever-changing sea, Alex possessed an unwavering passion for the ocean.
Lunar track
We children, who found everything new and often nothing satisfying; Mid-Autumn night, we looked forward to the moon in the yard, but did not come out for a long time, then sit back in the central hall, put the bamboo curtain children stuffy, pestering grandma to tell stories. Grandma can tell stories; I said one, and I'll say another... Grandma suddenly said: "In comes the moon!"
Raymond LipscombPublished 11 months ago in FictionCosmic Convergence: The Awakening of Havenridge
In the small coastal town of Havenridge, nestled between towering cliffs and the relentless embrace of the sea, an extraordinary event unfolded that would forever change the lives of its inhabitants. It began on an ordinary summer day, when a mysterious object crash-landed on the outskirts of town, shrouded in an ethereal glow.
Parachute mermaid dream
In a sky of dreams, where courage soars, A parachute dances, embracing the roars. From heights unknown, it takes its flight,
Uche Stella danielPublished 11 months ago in PoetsDream
As I closed my eyes, I found myself transported into a vivid dream that was comparable to riding a train with a clear end in sight. The landscape surrounding me was constantly changing, ranging from sprawling green fields to towering mountains that seemed to touch the sky.
Writing As a Craft
I used to write just for myself, My thoughts just for my own mental health. But then I learned, oh so astute, That writing’s a craft, to become a fluent brute.
𝕽𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑 𝕿𝖎𝖌𝖊𝖗Published 11 months ago in Poets