You carry constellations in the pockets of your hands. planets on your knuckles, tides that answer your commands. My doubts are tiny satellites that think they’re free to drift—
By Milan Milic3 months ago in Poets
There’s a counter in my chest with bins and labels hand-made, neat, A lost and found of all my selves, where past and present meet.
I watch them from the benches, from the corners of streets, From the quiet hum of the cafe, Their small bodies moving in ways adults have long forgotten.
By Nash Georges3 months ago in Poets
Look at the world around you Constantly changing Even something seemingly still is shifting - Trees tell me to look at their rings,
By 𓍢ִ໋. ✿ Ghislaine ✿ 𓍢ִ໋. 3 months ago in Poets
First, do not bully the light. Let it sneak in through the cheap blinds, thin as a rumor, slow as an apology that took years to form.
We sat on opposite ends of one small, faithful couch. Our sentences in winter coats, our silences a crouch. The lamp rehearsed a warmer mood; the window watched instead.
Maybe you aren’t flawless. Maybe you weren’t perfect. But when the hurt hits never forget that you are worth it. You are the present, a gift in the season to live.
By Joe Patterson3 months ago in Poets
Introduction This is my seventy-eighth piece inspired by Angie Livingstone's magnificent artwork.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 months ago in Poets
I. The Mirror Isn’t Me (Philosophical — AABB) . I look into the mirror’s face, A quiet, silver, borrowed space. It copies me without a sound,
By Peter Thwing - Host of the FST Podcast3 months ago in Poets
Lustering scarlet like the Burning Bush in autumn, Mama was audacious in her lifetime. Unmatched in the beauty of her gaze, her mind, and her heart ... Then
By Khoi Verona3 months ago in Poets
I keep you in a bowl I made one late November night. With thumbs that didn’t trust themselves and wrists that held on tight.
The day thins out to parchment by the lane, A milky sun hangs low, without much gain. The air has teeth that test my naked throat.
