Prose

Zooming Out on Life
Life is a collection of imperfect movements… A series of squiggly lines, Zig zags, And blobs of color. From up close we can see all the cracks and crevices
By T.L. Amber2 months ago in Poets
The Celtic Cross That Carried the Roses
Every flame begins with a rupture. Every rose blooms from a fracture. This is not a ritual of control, but a ceremony of creation.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 months ago in Poets
Tender Reverie
Light gathers on the wall as if the day itself is whispering a secret. A small girl stands barefoot on the wooden floor, her dress breathing around her like a soft cloud, and above her rises a silhouette too tall to belong to her world. The shadow-woman, carved in gold and dusk, leans toward her with hair that moves like time caught in mid-shiver.
By Aarsh Malik2 months ago in Poets
Ashes of My Courage
That summer night, I was no longer shy. I no longer wished to hide—from your gaze, from the eyes of the world. Drop by drop, the courage that had been dripping for years
By Nicole Moore2 months ago in Poets
The Fledgling's Flight (A Poem)
Fledgling’s Flight Our fledgling flew the coop early one January So young and fresh from school His offer not giving us time to grieve
By Alexandra Grant2 months ago in Poets
Lillie
How far must I search for you? Where am I to seek you? Truly—where do the lost ones go? I am searching for you, while you journey into nothingness.
By Nicole Moore2 months ago in Poets
A Spring in Your Eyes
Your Tears What pure emotions they are… Your tears rise like a clear spring bursting from the heart of a hardened mountain;
By Nicole Moore2 months ago in Poets
Her, in Fire
Fire is no match for her. Inside her, lava flows. It roars and burns, turns being into ash, drives existence into nothingness.
By Nicole Moore2 months ago in Poets
Quiet Work of Becoming
I used to believe that becoming a writer would arrive with a sound—trumpets, perhaps, or at least a clean click, like a lock finally turning. I imagined a day when the doubt would lift its coat from the back of my chair and leave the room for good. Instead, it stayed. It learned my habits. It brewed coffee. It read over my shoulder.
By Luna Vani2 months ago in Poets
Upside-down Mouse
“The Broken Finger Story is not just about pain it is the comic checkpoint that softened the gloom. What started as a rupture turned into sovereign wit, reframing doom into laughter. I have now recorded it in my personal archive as a ceremony, a reminder that even pauses can ignite new passion.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 months ago in Poets
making gardens out of silence
No words come from my mouth And still, something is growing Making gardens out of silence Planting, without knowing
By Gail Fredricks2 months ago in Poets
Yellow. Honorable Mention in The Last Flame Challenge.
I went to my thesaurus to find a word, a word I could use in place of yellow. I was trying to write a poem
By Gerry Thibeault2 months ago in Poets