~~~ Stop the violence. I don't care if you're right or wrong, What side of the fence you sit on, Tall, thin, straight, queer, or anything in between.
By Rain Dayze28 minutes ago in Poets
I do not know why I exist. I wake up, I eat, I work, I sleep. I meet people, I speak, I listen. I plan for tomorrow, I remember yesterday.
By Algiebaabout an hour ago in Poets
There was a time When I lived in aesthetics. Coffee, sat on a ledge, Caught under the summer sun Of a day already growing hot.
By Silver Dauxabout 2 hours ago in Poets
The bee hasn't said hello to you, the function of it is to provide HONEY !? This bee hasn't moved, and also, haven't said hello to you, the function of it is to provide HONEY !?
By 365poetryabout 4 hours ago in Poets
I'm trying to understand the capacity of our thoughts !? The capacity of our words as we think of things from the past.. The capacity of engaging with a person, a name, or a page - the capacity to experience life more than what it is these stage !?
I lie in wait for want of precious clarity ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡ Sheer drapes finally alight with the golden wind of invitation ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡
By K.B. Silver about 4 hours ago in Poets
The sky is full of clouds, like my mind. The ground is slippery, like my thoughts. The rythem of the rain takes me away to somewhere else grey.
By Gabriel Shamesabout 5 hours ago in Poets
as if I understood what though who love is, was, will be I inlove, What kind of tissue dresses her what kind of blood through her
By Dianaabout 11 hours ago in Poets
So much has happened these years that I am lost in constant fear I know I shouldn't question you but its hard to see the truth
By Quentin woodardabout 12 hours ago in Poets
Cold snap coming, set to collide right smack into the warm front, possibly spawning tornadoes cyclones twisters, snapping treetops like matchsticks,
By Harper Lewisabout 12 hours ago in Poets
Once Upon a Poet’s Dream It wasn’t sleep, it was spark, words kicking walls in the dark, lines that bit, lines that burned,
By George’s Girl 2026 about 12 hours ago in Poets
Last Bus to Wigan I got on the bus with a pie and no plan The driver just nodded and called me “our Jan” Though my name isn’t Jan and it never has been
By George’s Girl 2026 about 13 hours ago in Poets
