Family

Happiness
In the garden of joy, where sunbeams dance, Happiness blooms, a sweet, enchanting trance. A melody of laughter in the air,
By BrendonJoseph2 years ago in Poets
Childhood memories
In the garden of youth, where memories bloom, Childhood echoes like a sweet, nostalgic tune. Laughter, like butterflies, flits in the air,
By BrendonJoseph2 years ago in Poets
Being a Parent
“Being a Parent” Spending a day out in the sand Seeing my child’s hand, playing in band. A fun day at the park
By Corey W Harland2 years ago in Poets
The Gift
The Magic 9 is a newer form and relatively unknown. The creator could not be found, though it appears to have been inspired by a poet misspelling the word "abracadabra." This 9-line poem doesn't have any rules as far as meter or subject matter--just a rhyme scheme: abacadaba. That's right! Just remove the r's from "abracadabra," and boom! A new poetic form; and after writing my first Magic 9, I can report that they're fun to write. Writer's Digest, Robert Lee Brewer
By Denise E Lindquist2 years ago in Poets
Phenomena
Listen to the strange harmonica Of this world’s phenomena Feel the shattering feeling of unease As The Scattering tingles all around you
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Black Box
No one listens They just talk That’s why I like my black box They only listen for something to use To abuse you with That’s why I like my black box
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Mother
In the silent curtain of life, a mother's love weaves deep threads, a testament to the infinite depth of her heart. She is the silent architect of our existence, molding our foundations with whispers of affection and enveloping us in her warmth.
By J.m. Safri2 years ago in Poets
Nostradamus
Nostradamus is nauseating I wish I was just hating But the closest to this gnosis Is something between hypnosis and psychosis
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Intrusive Thoughts
Intrusive thoughts are usually quickly forgot Unless you’re me Then you write them down For all to see Let them bleed
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Crazy Hair
Miss crazy hair Why do you ask why I stare I’m always looking at the beauty Beneath that crazy hair 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 Historian2 years ago in Poets
Pretty Little Things
Pretty little things Soft like heather on wings Shifting ever so slightly Hips sashay in the wind Begging you to come in
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
A Novel Poem
How absurd What a novel idea To think that your idea can’t be both What poetic injustice To think we can’t do both What kind of host
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets