For Fun

Months Poem
January stars fresh They call it the New year Joy spreads through bone and flush Resolutions line up fear already wasted a year, it's a sad song
By Karun 2 years ago in Poets
Finding Treasure in the Dark
I dive into the garden shed To escape the sudden hail Listening to its thwumping, icy, drumbeat on the tin roof My phone flashlight flashes in an arc on shapes in the dark
By Bonnie Bowerman2 years ago in Poets
Vanilla
Running from the hail stepped into a spiderweb I lost my compass *********** My moral compass Won’t allow me To serve you
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Poets
Careen
These black holes are practically irresistable, whisking me away into voids of ecstacy. I try to avoid them, changing my trajectory towards bodies
By Eden Bell2 years ago in Poets
Away
I am at home on the road Moving from place to place Never setting any roots Always setting my own pace Stability not meant for me
By Christopher O'Sullivan2 years ago in Poets
In Talking
Studies have shown that having a brain is a high risk factor for brain cancer; how comforting to know that as one of those referred to by the scarecrow above, as among those without a brain who talks or writes incessantly, I need not fear any danger of cerebral Big C.
By AponPaeng2 years ago in Poets
I think about you every day
I forget what you look like. Kind of. You know what I mean. I won't look back to old photos of happier times. I can't. The artist in my mind cannot mix the colors to complete the outlined image of you. Is your skin still sun-kissed or are you working too much to spend days dancing in the sunshine? Does your hair still go down to your butt or have you cut it since? I haven't gotten over how indifferent the world is that you and I are not together. Distance and time don't fight fairly. I'm not an out of sight out of mind type person. You consume my mind on a daily basis. Quite frankly, you haunt my existence. It's true what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. But darling, I am fonded out. I famishly break into soup kitchens slurping the leftover mush of your entire being. I live off our memories like koi fish live off wishful pennies that won't be answered in passerby coin ponds. I create visions of us that never occurred and explore them ad nauseam.
By Daniel K2 years ago in Poets
Fleece Is
So this has been a tough winter here. Yes, it’s Florida, but I don’t remember this many cold days in a row. Weeks of morning temperatures in the low 30s has worn me down like a piece of sea glass. Yes, it’s true- I was born and raised in Canada, and there are photos of me as a teenager in a snow suit, driving a team of horses on a sleigh ride in the woods. Me, grinning from ear to ear in -50 degrees. I was young and stupid then too.
By Colleen Walters2 years ago in Poets
Spring in Winter. Top Story - March 2024.
I never saw any white on the ground, unless you count the morning frost that disappeared before nine. Spring peepers are harmonizing
By Alexandria Stanwyck2 years ago in Poets
India- The food for our soul is love
India is the land of diverse cultures. Where we live submerged in the sweetness of nuanced flavors of customs that make us alive. Lost in a land of fondness, enriched by the tenderness of beliefs we all are different in existing realities, but there is one thing that binds us together-food. To relish the sweetness of life, we often taste the bitter vinegar of adversities. The melodious cacophony of joy radiates on our abode when the hours of plight grind the periphery of our strength.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
The Student Sonnet. Top Story - March 2024.
Note: I have pretty much been dead on my feet this week with the midterm exams, weather weirdness in Canada, and the usual obsessions and concerns over money and future work (thank you, stress headache...stressache?). So, this may not be my best work, but I think it explains where my head is at and what I have had to deal with...
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Poets
The Gentle Beast
From the east he roams Having never found a home of his own Always dragging his stone with him Wherever he goes it goes
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets