Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
My grandmother’s hands show up in mine When I’m washing rice that same quick swirl, that same patience that looks like boredom
By Milan Milic2 months ago in Poets
Leaving beloved cities, four times I've gone, each departure a heartbreak. Memories linger, both cherished and painful, yet all mine.
By Moon Desert2 months ago in Poets
Fixing things is never simple. You first must let go of your old life story's interpretations. They're useless in a new setting;
I know it sort of sounds weird, me robbing the older person. Taking what they didn't give, or perhaps left for me to do. I know it sort of sounds weird, me robbing the older person.
By 365poetry2 months ago in Poets
In twilight’s haze, where shadows creep, A soul unravels, threads frown deep. The clock ticks on, a relentless beat, Dreams suffocate beneath concrete feet.
By Luna Vani2 months ago in Poets
Today is Christmas Day... A day that I always enjoy spending with family. There are a lot of things that you can write about when it comes to this Holiday.
By Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, DFM, DHM, DAS (hc)2 months ago in Poets
Now Dasher, or was it Prancer? Vixen, or Blixen ? Jamaica is not on the map - and I'm tired of trying to protect them from TREASON!
How often do you sit down... Just to experience gratitude? It seems to be a lost art in our world today... With so many people focused on what is next...
The phone rang only once. Not the desperate kind. Not the long, pleading vibration that fills a room with panic. Just once. Clean. Precise.
By Salman Writes2 months ago in Poets
He loved me like a heresy, quiet at first, then all-consuming. Said I was different— which is how men begin when they mean dangerous.
By Brie Boleyn2 months ago in Poets
Walk through the world with a history bone, Carried from lands once taken and thrown. Shadows of ancestors pressed into skin,
By V2 months ago in Poets
"Don't touch the glass! Hot!" Grandma tells my frozen hands Too late, fingers burnt.
By Lana V Lynx2 months ago in Poets
