Prose

Where the sky meets the ocean
Where the sky meets the ocean In the vast horizon I have always been in motion Inside the soul’s immersion — — — — Where the sky meets the ocean
By fleeting.serenics2 months ago in Poets
Blood of the Wolf: The Visitor. Top Story - December 2025.
Now let me tell you this, my Viking brethren, a tale of the day, for a woman came to my door, her shoulders draped in furs,
By Amanda Starks2 months ago in Poets
Season 22
It is so profound how I don't think about it anymore. With nature on its way out I packed melancholy into an airtight jar and put it on the shelf beside the jar
By Gerry Thibeault2 months ago in Poets
Silent Poetry
The night was slowly settling over the quiet city. A soft breeze touched the empty streets as a young man sat on an old sidewalk, a notebook in his hand and a trembling pen between his fingers. His name was Rehan—the poet everyone called “The Silent Writer.”
By Anas Khan2 months ago in Poets
Breaking Curses of Dark Entities. Content Warning.
This flame is mine to ignite, not theirs to erase. Every curse becomes fuel, every attempt at destruction becomes witness. I stand sovereign truth over lies, care over cruelty, cadence over silence. This archive is not theirs to burn; it is mine to keep alive.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 months ago in Poets
Kintsugi 3
There is beauty in you And in me Is it seeing flaws in the beauty? Or beauty in the flaws? Does it matter? We all see beauty differently
By Atomic Historian2 months ago in Poets
Always in All Ways
Always sounds grand in the moment An expression of hope To conquer every unknown valley and slope Little do we know that always means in all ways
By Atomic Historian2 months ago in Poets
The Sunder-Glass Bloom
Where silence weaves a tapestry unseen, And earth forgets its verdant, humid green, A garden sleeps, of facets sharp and clear,
By The 9x Fawdi2 months ago in Poets
The Oldest Posture of the Land
The shift begins in the air’s density: a faint thinning at the edges of warmth, the atmosphere recalibrating its balance of heat and loss. Light fractures differently across stone, and shadows migrate along new vectors. The world reorders itself by degrees, quiet and measurable and precise.
By Richard Patrick Gage2 months ago in Poets
Who Pulls Her Strings
Who Pulls Her Strings I saw her stand in that quiet room, her shadow tall against the wall. Thin wires rose from her hidden spine,
By Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
My Oldest Root
When people talk about roots, they point to family trees and parish records. Mine run deeper, past any surname, down into limestone and tallow smoke to a hand that pressed red earth onto a cave wall long before my language existed.
By Richard Patrick Gage2 months ago in Poets
Danu
Awaken my soul I hear your call But I understand nothing Detached from The Otherworld A forgotten past Disconnected
By Atomic Historian2 months ago in Poets