vintage

Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.

i thought myself a cornucopia
there’s a cavern in my chest, more like a rift, abyssal, abysmal, existential, the kind of hole that only love could open.
By Daniel K3 months ago in Poets
My First Poem
Every writer has a starting point. Sometimes it begins with a story, sometimes with a feeling, and sometimes with a single line that unexpectedly opens the door to creativity. Before you read my first poem, let me tell you the story of when I started.
By Keramatullah Wardak3 months ago in Poets
the frost is slowly fried
leaves slowly burn off branches in the spark of cold fire sounds softened by the glow's cotton wake sunlit glitter scattered among the trees
By A. S. Lawrence3 months ago in Poets
When I was nothing
For twenty years, she kept silent. Careful not to reveal a thing. One event haunted her: She'd disrespected her daughter.
By Moon Desert3 months ago in Poets
US military planning for divided Gaza with ‘green zone’ secured by international and Israeli troops
The US is planning for the long-term division of Gaza into a “green zone” under Israeli and international military control, where reconstruction would start, and a “red zone” to be left in ruins.
By AHMED KAZEKA3 months ago in Poets
Rise Now Oh Winter Winds Rise!
Rise now Oh winter winds Rise! send forth your frosty vanguard drain the moisture from the air before it ripping the breath
By Matthew J. Fromm3 months ago in Poets
1982 Pontiac. Content Warning.
On a hot summer day, a day like any other, Gleeful urban youth, run and chase one another, hydrants cracked open to cool melanin skin,
By Ezekiel Xander3 months ago in Poets
Spirals Downhill
It all starts with the mistaken belief (sorry Hank, but not that much) that anyone wants to read anything I write. The spirals downhill from there.
By Paul Stewart3 months ago in Poets
The Mirror Cycle (Poetry)
I. The Mirror Isn’t Me (Philosophical — AABB) . I look into the mirror’s face, A quiet, silver, borrowed space. It copies me without a sound,
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast3 months ago in Poets
1 Year Later - I've Made It, No You Have - No I Have , No You, Truly You
Okay, you know what " I" am going to say right, that without, you, it couldn't have been possible! Without the things you have done, life isn't the way it was, and I will just have to say - trust and believe.
By 365poetry3 months ago in Poets
"The Resident of Pain"
I am not a blank page, but the remains of a book which was not written and burned. To me no explanation wants... I have no presumptions about necessitating explanation. I am in this sound which has not softened. and the features that have not been made to smile. I do not tidy up my mess, but leave it a monument of what I have experienced. Any of my silences is a tale, and everything in my eyes turns the temporal and superficial. I am not a passer-by of pain... but a resident of it, I know it as I know my name... And I purchase it as picking up an ugly fate. I do not seek salvation, or raise my head towards the sky. I am the son of the heavy earth, and sister of primeval solitude. I already know something about darkness, and I shake my hands with it every single night and never tremble... and I know how to stare at it without asking to be lit... I am no beast that could be argued... but perceived... and feared.
By LUCCIAN LAYTH3 months ago in Poets
Climbing Out
Starting with nothing, the climb feels steep, Nights are heavy, and food isn't cheap. But a mind can shift, a thought can grow,
By V3 months ago in Poets