Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
I am a collection of memories that I will never remember, of stories that are not mine to tell, of languages whose grammar I have not mastered,
By Amanda Rodrigues5 years ago in Poets
Red entry to a black and white world Red laughter round my mother’s pearls Red dream of stairs descending down Recurring from a tender age
By Bec Gardner5 years ago in Poets
BLUE and his various shades Relate so much to me that Here i stand, Ready to create. From midnight, to navy and the tried depths of despair he takes,
By CH∆D.5 years ago in Poets
Grey until we find a way Look for the rainbow in every storm they say Never let the darkness cover your rays
By Randa Ray5 years ago in Poets
Today I will wear tartan. I will square the circle of colour in my heart. I will wear the colours of the rainbow with pride. Through the prism
By Robert Duncan5 years ago in Poets
The daughter that once was stubborn as a mule. Grew up to be quite a jewel. She bore a son and raised another one. Even if it was not part of her plan.
By Claire Saldivar5 years ago in Poets
human host of blue frosted finger tips if i touched you i think youd turn blue not to exaggerate but if i could sing i think id sing the blues
By Estevan Jorge5 years ago in Poets
Glittery . Shimmer Sparkles my darling. At 21 the first glimpse caused a sheik. At 33, a glimpse down there … no one tells you about that.
By Victoria5 years ago in Poets
I am possessed by the spirit of Poe He writes the poems I could never write Like a raven on a dreary midnight Everywhere I go, he quoth, “Nevermore.”
By Alexander Bentley5 years ago in Poets
The Windmills In My Living Room Midday is unkind. The vulgar king of the celestial marbles invites his dancers to gatecrash my curtains.
By Konstantinos Andrikopoulos5 years ago in Poets
filling jars with the crooked necks of supermarket tulips, the moon in disciplined orbit tries to sleep. teaching a cowlick to stay down is like colonizing
By Thomas Mattson5 years ago in Poets
You can lock every shame in my room That’s what it’s here for Abandoned and bruised And with only used Items From my past immortal heavens
By Moon Desert5 years ago in Poets
