Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
By Denisse Lizeth8 years ago in Poets
We walk through the trees, across the winding bend, Our laughter bites the wind, the coldness it does fend. Casting pebbles to a lake, as light drifts beyond the shore,
By Holly Bushnell8 years ago in Poets
He walks down the hallway, Hears "she" and "her," And it burns a hole into his soul, Already wounded by pain and hate for who he is,
By Eric Ragsdale8 years ago in Poets
I possess a weapon. That's right. You read that correctly. I have a weapon. It's perfectly legal, Yet it's more powerful
By Matt Martin8 years ago in Poets
Decorated distractions Doused with decadence and despair Dreams of the disconnected Dissipating into thin air Directing the diverse
By Mike Wayward8 years ago in Poets
They say that night falls. They are mistaken. It rises from the land slowly like litmus in water. Unfurling inky tendrils of blue, reaching out and up to color the world in shades of mystery.
By Lynn Stadel8 years ago in Poets
I thought about you today, but that was nothing new. I thought about you yesterday, and the day before that too. I thought about the way we kissed,
By Ruth Cross8 years ago in Poets
Two scoops, an early rise, Roasted beans and water. Twelve cups, two mugs Bitter beans and water. Tinkling bells, jostling coats
By Kathryn Brown8 years ago in Poets
Gone, whispers the peeling wallpaper. The walls have rotted away by the pursuit Of rainwater and the undeniable dispute Between termites and water vapor.
By Emily Schwartz8 years ago in Poets
For anyone who wasn’t already aware, I am worth immersing in. And for those who don’t recognize, Who try to drown me In their detached, weary, disheartening,
By Ajone Alina8 years ago in Poets
Green told me he hates you July is the righthand corner I see Wednesday on the side One is not that lonely, but he won’t admit it
By Simone Allenhall8 years ago in Poets
when time has passed unknowingly my kitchen reminds me it has Molly tells me where the bread is below where the plates used to be, before the ants
By Fiachra O'8 years ago in Poets
