First Draft

⏳ The Room That Forgot How Time Passes:
⏳ The Room That Forgot How Time Passes: The Secret of the Silent Clock! Have you ever wondered what the world would look like if the second hand stopped racing? Not figuratively, but literally—if time itself halted within a specific space while life outside continued its furious pace?
By Mo,Ghandour3 months ago in Poets
never is absolute. Content Warning.
the discovery process objectionable but uncontested justified prejudice stayed within jurisdiction but not one single peer in the twelve
By ⸘jason alan‽3 months ago in Poets
Floating
Floating in a sea of disbelief Itching for relief Stripped of every belief I once held dear Bereaved of my self Shucking the sleeve of my former reality
By Atomic Historian3 months ago in Poets
MONROE SUCCULENT P.1. AI-Generated.
Monroe succulent, also known as chubby little stone flower, has a natural, gentle beauty. With the light green color of the leaves, the pink, white, and yellow colors of the flowers will brighten up any space.
By HieuDinh3 months ago in Poets
I Consume, So I Create.
I consume so I create. Living, breathing, becoming. In an age of overconsumption, I turn excess into expression.
By Marvelous Michael3 months ago in Poets
Banking Dreams
shards of thieves and bards drifting through the thee and you resting upon my waking head like morning dew as I lay in bed
By A. S. Lawrence3 months ago in Poets
The Early Years Collection. Honorable Mention in Harvest of Memory Challenge.
last august i picked through photo albums and hard drives to provide my brother’s wife a roadmap of the hardening and softening of my brother’s face
By Steven Christopher McKnight3 months ago in Poets
Fertile Microbiome
We can all remember a time when we were little That one memory of when you accidently piddled Or when you got in trouble in kindergarten because you couldn't stop fiddling
By Connor Mudie3 months ago in Poets
We’re called the keepers
They say we’re called the keepers Born with greedy fingers and soft tissue, we pull the world inward and allow it to mark unshaven shins with bruises the periwinkle of forget-me-nots
By Aimee Van Arsdale3 months ago in Poets
Between Dusk and Memory
The thoughts were fleeting The sky was gray The moments we tried to remember Stuck in between realities Was it real Or a faded memory
By Thomas Terry3 months ago in Poets
Mending. Honorable Mention in Harvest of Memory Challenge.
Several weeks ago the daylight shortened and night began lengthening - An unspoken message to all that it was time to begin the season of gathering,
By Pōlani Monderen 3 months ago in Poets
Poisoned Grains. Honorable Mention in Harvest of Memory Challenge.
Stepping into the field of things remembered by my mind is like stepping into a field of landmines because there's always something
By Emma Weir3 months ago in Poets