Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Hungry, Still My parents are living in their dream house now with trees as far as the eyes can see A quiet, peaceful neighborhood with nowhere to go
By Hazel S4 years ago in Poets
i stare at myself, and i stare and i stare, and i exceedingly care; when i stare and i stare, it’s a strange nightmare; i stare and i stare and i can identify some flaw on my body or my face in everything that i wear;
By zoe frenchman4 years ago in Poets
I rarely do but that day, when I had a second to breathe I looked up at the sky A squirrel scurried across the wire Against the blue, on top of the black, a tiny blob of moving gray
By My Name Is Not Cypress4 years ago in Poets
Children are a blessing, And let me tell you why I was born with my father’s laughter And my mother’s eyes. My grandfather gave me music
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)4 years ago in Poets
I’m standing in my new apartment, looking out the window For as far as the eye can see, there are man-made buildings, One level houses, three storey hotels, fifty floor office towers
By Colleen Millsteed 4 years ago in Poets
Maybe I am The Scarlet Witch. Unaware that I’ve created a false reality. But not false enough to mean that it doesn’t exist - that the people inside aren’t real.
By Melynda Kloc4 years ago in Poets
I’ve been on a journey; I’ve lived out a story. I’ve experienced the waves and had the craze. I feel the crash and maybe it’s brash, but I know it’s all gotta mean something to someone.
By Juliette Ivy4 years ago in Poets
There are plenty of things that I miss Plenty that I look back upon with simple bliss I never knew how simple it could be
By Will Helgren/Ochal4 years ago in Poets
Mother Moon caresses Your tear-strewn cheeks with her beams, Sends gentle waves to foam At your toes, the soft sand A reminder that you are safe, supported, seen.
By Helen Kwiecien4 years ago in Poets
sitting silenced wasted on space fluctuating indications empty nowheres of yesterdays futures hope and neglect litter the floors
By Bren4 years ago in Poets
Fog; That perpetual weight that holds spirits in check. The thick mist halts progression and breeds content ineptitude. Seeking out the haze instead of goals, it surrounds and suffocates.
By W. Joe O'Banion4 years ago in Poets
What can I do now that all laughter has left my life and I go on not knowing where to stop and greet sunshine on daisies
By Amy Christie4 years ago in Poets
