Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
If we knew How things turned out In the end, If we could just see The outcomes from our choices, We can make our decisions
By a*k² (a times k-squared)4 years ago in Poets
Is it just me Or can we all agree, walking this earth ain’t for free. Nobody will let me be who I want to be We gotta beg and plead
By Bethany Lalande4 years ago in Poets
Future's feature is very critical and It's bout is very dramatical. Someone says, future is full of confusion, But I think, in the court of future perfect every decision.
By Baby Khushbu4 years ago in Poets
I am the great mother, giver of all fertility. I am the source of life through love making life is created. I am the goddess of sexuality
By Danielle Mosley4 years ago in Poets
Try to imagine what might have happened If Bonnie and Clyde had escaped again Given a chance to turn their lives around Taking advantage of hard-fought freedom.
By Yvonne Lovejoy4 years ago in Poets
You moved by the rhythm, The rhythm I've created, I crawled by the movement of a beam, The beam you have shredded, Can you feel the heat from the palm of the Cajuputi tree?
By istdennisa4 years ago in Poets
In my mind, a kingdom is; So many joys there, I discover. That it surpasses all other pleasures That which the earth provides or grows in kind:
By Chaitanya Babu4 years ago in Poets
A good glass of wine, to end the night. That's what I call, a really good time. A good glass of wine, to end the day--
By Laurel Mayfield4 years ago in Poets
No more tearing down Time to build up Premonitions become tangible Past life was entirely corrupt No more trading punches with the heart of darkness
By Eddie Heath4 years ago in Poets
Armed not with that ravenous appetite Of bloodlust, of us, us. The humming leading to glorified murder – but a camera.
By Abigail Sire 4 years ago in Poets
I speak to myself - Also in the same medium Of marker paper - The phone ringing in the background And a blender machine (that was broken for a month)
Tunes, melodies, lullabies, soft and sweet. Fill the air when that time of year is near. White snow falls cover the ground like a sheet;
By Ashtyn Rae4 years ago in Poets
