Blackout

The Last Storm
The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying with it the scent of rain that would never come. The sky, a dull shade of gray, loomed over the remains of a once-thriving city. Crumbling buildings stood like forgotten tombstones, their windows shattered, their walls cracked by time and neglect. The world had dried up, leaving nothing but dust and despair in its wake.
By Pranshu vermaabout a year ago in Poets
Walls
Walls work both ways One day you say hooray The next, you can’t stay Because walls work both ways _________________ The photo: Konrad Schumann jumping over the early Berlin Wall.
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
stabiliser
it stole my youth now i refuse to believe the age i turn rotten tooth should have fixed me at that young malleable age
By Essieabout a year ago in Poets
Rumi: The Mystic Poet of Love and Spirituality
Rumi’s Early Life and Spiritual Journey Rumi was born into a family of scholars and mystics. His father, Baha al-Din Walad, was a well-respected theologian and jurist, whose teachings greatly influenced Rumi’s early education. Due to the Mongol invasions sweeping through Central Asia, Rumi’s family migrated westward, eventually settling in Konya, in present-day Turkey. It was here that Rumi established himself as a scholar and teacher, following in his father’s footsteps.
By Mr Aliabout a year ago in Poets
Permanent Face Paint. Content Warning.
The teenager With the face of a clown Nobody told her Why didn’t they tell her? He painted her face They loved him still
By Essieabout a year ago in Poets
Coup
The cat was on the prowl Not a creature was stirring Not even a mouse Because the call was coming from inside the house
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Unspoken Love
A Love She Never Knew I can't call it heartbreak, 'Cause she never dated me. But still, my heart feels heavy,
By Witness Loveabout a year ago in Poets
Through the window of time
The phone chimed, jolting me awake. I picked up and saw a glimpse of a bleak existence, That belied my mortality at its stake.
By Hridya Sharmaabout a year ago in Poets
Monsters
The real monsters are those that hide in the shadows The bean counters and profiteers That leave nothing fallow The ones that fight to destroy everything from the rear
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
I Write
I write songs for the broken hearted Those that believe love has departed I write poems for those That no one knows I write tales for those that no longer believe in glory
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Torch Bearers
Part 1 [1]. Once upon a time, many centuries ago, there lived an old merchant. All his wife he had toiled hard, buying and selling, with the result that he had made a lot of money. As the years went by, he laid by more and more riches. But the day came when he felt that he had not long to remain in this world. He began to wonder what he should do with his money.
By EduScript about a year ago in Poets
The Wizard
The wizard waved his wand And it was all gone Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets