excerpts

Poets Media isolates the most poignant, powerful, and exquisitely composed verses and quotes in the universal poetry canon.

Summer Time
Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean— the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
By Jaramie Kinsey5 years ago in Poets
Proverbs
Proverbs As a child, mama would say to me son, The sky is not the limit and the sun does not burn, Whatever you want you could get under the fiery sun.
By Em Hoccane5 years ago in Poets
Summer Days in Silver Terrace
Who would have thought these would be the best days of my life? Barely 5, barely alive. Seeing the world through beauties eyes.
By Kaci Fox5 years ago in Poets
'Cockles' & 'Shrimps'
Cockles cockles with dad in a white paper cone varnished with vinegar pepper a toothpick the sun eaten one-by-one with a grin
By Emre Grub5 years ago in Poets
Samphire Picking
You can find it by the shoes – neatly placed pairings perched atop tidal-wall rocks socks poking out a peppering of sand on their soles
By Emre Grub5 years ago in Poets
The Long Walk Home
It's about three miles, give or take though it never seemed that far not at the time with beer in the blood banter to push us along
By Emre Grub5 years ago in Poets
The true nature
From the moment we are born, our nature is white and pure, but we start to take different shapes, and our essence takes different colors over time. Like the clouds of the sky that united make one single form or the colors of a rainbow, context changes us and modify our personality, and when we grow, our perception of things change, but our true nature never fades away. Some people are just black, and they are lost in the darkness. Some of them simply the years and rage makes them go unsent and uncolorful. My true nature is compassionate, moody, loving, and changeable like the season always depends. Sometimes I let the exterior affect me, and I feel overwhelmed and put on the defensive, and sometimes I just lost in myself whit my thoughts. Sometimes I'm too empathic, and sometimes I suffer more because of that, but I've already controlled it over time. I've been like this all my life, so I can't change, but I always hide it; if you ask me why I don't know why. But my dark sides are worse. I find it hard to forgive and forget. When someone is really close to me, I do it or when people say sorry but coming from the heart whit honesty. But still always whit a warm heart, the colors that define me the most are the cold colors whit a few warm tones that exist on earth. Whenever I see the green in the forest, the blue in the ocean, I feel how calm my body and mind. I like to think the nobody can notice my changes in my mutable aura, but the reality is everyone can. My wings elevate every time I feel happy.
By Pame Molina5 years ago in Poets
A Timeless Existence (Journal Entry)
I have a vision. Myself, with my own grand palace of gothic architecture, and an evergreen endless garden- no, a forest - in my name.
By Sana Zia5 years ago in Poets
Found
“I found in you what I thought once lost to me. Creativity, borne from my over active mind. Once held high above my head, showered with love and touted as my best quality; cried out for freedom but was silenced repeatedly.
By Jake Trammell5 years ago in Poets
The Francisca With No Last Name (Monologue)
Maybe I could pull a rich kid in Hollywood move and fake my own death! I mean, what kind of ‘love and light’ gibberish is the universe playing at here - a crossroads between two options of selling the only accomplishment of a thrift store you have to a company trying to get you in jail, or keep the store and the perfectly polished facade of the long-haired mystery girl who sells star-studded jeans and army boots for a living…oh yeah, and then also, still anger the company trying to buy you out and possibly- well most likely, go to jail. Nice one, Francisca. I bet if I had stayed with the first foster care family in Chile I wouldn’t be the laughing stock of my own decisions. “The young Brazilian woman of Chile that rollerblades through the marketplace every morning get evicted from an apartment complex with no family to run to”- oh the pity parties I’d have thrown in my name are already circling around in my head. I never had much ambition here, I’ve sort of always thought of myself to be living in a time loop of sorts where I’m the main character and the only thing that changes over time is the length of hair or the songs the neighborhood plays on the weekends. And now? ‘Hey Francisca, remember how you flushed your memory down the drain to throw yourself into a whole other identity so no one would throw sob stories at you for being an unmarried orphan? Yeah, a pack of white men who stuff their mouths with money is threatening to make a spectacle out of it if you don’t sign to a sell-out.’ God, I wish I would have gotten that notification bell sooner. My supposed ‘sister’ or in other words plant mom of a roommate whose parrot might as well render me deaf to a tornado- isn’t any help at all. The woman just sees me leaving as more living space for her- lazy swine. Okay, Francisca, enough stalling, I can have my existential crisis once I’m sure I’ll still have a bed and job while I’m at it- how can I find my way out of two routes that both lead to framed jail time? And why is faking my own death suddenly looking so much more doable right about now? Okay no, if I spend one more hour staring at the ocean without having an epiphany of sorts I might swell turn myself in right now.
By Sana Zia5 years ago in Poets
Islands
Because I am losing weight, I can feel the twin bones of my cheeks rise out of my face. The skin retracts, the bone pushes forward. When I look at myself in the mirror, it is like watching an entire continent shift. The landscape bares itself; we see, finally, its teeth.
By Jeanie kwak5 years ago in Poets
The Brown on the Bear
The Brown on the Bear The brown of my skin adds to the origin of my name when out came a 9-pound baby with a full head of hair. My father took one look and said, “That’s a Yona over there!” Yona, means bear in the language of Tsalagi. Many don’t see the Native American in me, but it’s in my blood and the culture taught to me. Tsalagi and Nottoway comes from my father who will say I’m his warrior bear.
By Yona Vaughan 5 years ago in Poets