Prose

Work
The hours pass tick tock tick tock reminding me -no- taunting me, that time is fleeting, fickle,
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
A Scenic Sight
The breeze blows the smell of carrion. Fields of stinking corpses All rotting in a pile. Jagged horns, crooked antlers.
By Zo Grimmwood2 years ago in Poets
Faint Light
There is no more you, There is no more us Now, there is only me and myself, Reflecting as night falls ~ From the window of my room,
By Radiant Roots2 years ago in Poets
Ode to the Casket
Who then whittles away at my casket? That with each affair my life’s surrender, intricate impressions render. Who then constructs the art of my fate?
By Hyde Wunderli 2 years ago in Poets
Whisper
The September air whispers of all things golden and me. She whispers of the color of my crown - the one passed down
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
The Sound of Rain at Night
In the silent darkness of the night Rain falls gently, softly kissing the earth Each drop sings a melody Accompanying the night with an eternal rhythm
By Radiant Roots2 years ago in Poets
“I WOKE UP ALONE”. Content Warning.
ART BY MICROSOFT CO-PILOT PHOTOS BY VICKI PHOTO BY VICKI JULY 2003 SONG WRITTEN BY VICKI IN YEAR 2000 MUSIC BY SUNO INSTRUMENTS & STYLE CHOSEN BY VICKI
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 years ago in Poets
Not to get into the game is a kind of advanced life wisdom
I think the reason I like being alone. It's because I know that If I'm alone. I know that if I'm alone, no one will bother me or change my mood.
By Jack.song2 years ago in Poets
Should
The little black top with the plunging neckline winks at me from the corner of my closet but the red polka dot crew neck
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
Old Friend
Hello old friend We meet again It’s been a long while You used to wander after me Up and down the aisle Through fields of green grass
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
The Fairy's Wisdom
“I can’t love him” She said as the fairy danced around her head “Why not?” The fairy asked “Because the mold is cast. He is promised to another.”
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Of Past and Grief. Content Warning.
It may be a foreign country, but still its culture impacts. For good or bad, bad or good, the past leaves its mark—undeniably indelible. Whether you lean into it or run from it, it shapes and forms your future. It can secure or derail that future. Just as we can't bandage over the past and hope it disappears, we can't live there.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets