Seven days of whispers, the week unfolds, Each dawn a new chapter, each moment it holds. Monday’s promise, a spark in the air,
By Abbasabout a year ago in Poets
The mountains extract the sour taste, as it seeps into their bones And the wholesome scent of pine and earth clears the palate.
By Rachel Deemingabout a year ago in Poets
On the field where dreams take flight, Grass beneath feet, hearts full of light. Whistles pierce the air, a rallying call,
Cold hands, fingers entwined in the chill, Whispers of warmth in the quiet, still. Nipped by the frost, yet reaching for light,
The deviled eggs on my legs smell Of the half-elves from hell that have sprung from their shell To quell the chaos between summer and Christmas
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
The night is a bustling, hip café We haven’t the pull to be admitted The luminous windows tempt and betray Their warm allure is counterfeited
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
In the silence, where shadows dwell, The deepest emotions weave their spell. A river flows beneath the skin, With currents strong, where dreams begin.
Beneath the trees, the earth hums low, A rhythm only forests know. The leaves that tremble in the breeze Are stars in skies of earthly seas.
In May, when blossoms burst and bloom, Ideas rise from winter’s tomb. They drift on winds of soft perfume, And settle in the mind’s bright room.
The morning breaks with tender light, A quiet end to velvet night. Through curtains, dawn begins to creep, And stirs the world from peaceful sleep.
So close, the end is just in sight, The finish line bathed in soft light. The road was long, the climb was steep,
At times the world feels far too wide, A restless sea, an endless tide. I stand alone on shifting sands, With hopes that slip through open hands.
