I want to say it plainly. No metaphors. No similes. I want to praise my friends. I want to tell the world how they save me.
By Tina D. Lopezabout 11 hours ago in Poets
Arbeit Mach Freit. The letters stare at us - twists of rusted, wrought iron, flaking with age. I don’t speak German, but I know what these words mean.
By Maura Bernsteinabout 12 hours ago in Poets
I showed him my crazy when I got ahold of his phone. Thumbs flying through numbers he swore he didn’t know. Texted each woman with a heart by her name.
By Tina D. Lopezabout 12 hours ago in Poets
Take my words, take my data, download and know me. Check me against all the scraped testimony From libraries, blogs, and magazine shelves.
By Ian Lundabout 13 hours ago in Poets
Something, I'm saying something as if this word needs enough messages !? Something, I'm saying that makes us want to know exactly what it is that makes us who we are, and what we should do !?
By 365poetryabout 13 hours ago in Poets
Your sarcasm is crude and so are you Your rudeness is annoying but I tolerate it I'm with a friend and you ask me if he's my boyfriend
By John Scipioabout 13 hours ago in Poets
Say what you mean Mean what you say. Oh, how fond you are of beating around the bush - of treading warily. How weary that has become.
By Julie Lacksonenabout 13 hours ago in Poets
I walk the old path along the ridge where my papaw once walked. 🌿 I came here first as a child, small enough that the hill felt wide and the climb long.
By Tim Carmichaelabout 14 hours ago in Poets
The Hand Above The Shadow A great hand hangs above the figure, Quiet, patient, and unseen. Threads descend through empty air,
By George’s Girl 2026 about 15 hours ago in Poets
~~~ 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 Dayzeabout 16 hours 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 16 hours 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 17 hours ago in Poets
