Free Verse

Titillated
These flights of fancy color my world in bold brushstrokes of eroticism, lush sensory details about textures and flavors: rich rough reds, deep velvet chocolatey greens,
By Harper Lewis3 days ago in Poets
Duffy
A weary whimper and soft sigh Went almost unnoticed that day. Our lives limped drearily along Washed out; devoid of colour
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶3 days ago in Poets
In memory of myself.
I sat in the middle with myself, split clean in two for longer than I’d like to admit. - One half reaching back screaming, pleading
By Latisha Jean3 days ago in Poets
Come Back Kid
A tour of humility and not defeat. A position of victory, all is His glory. Remade over head to toe, a vision of Cinderella at the ball
By Jacqueline Elaine Hudson3 days ago in Poets
Tick Tock
The Wizard gave me a toy A heart-shaped clock that goes tick-tock—tick-tock—tick-tock— a hollow rhythm for a hollow man.
By Tina D. Lopez3 days ago in Poets
Weather The Sea Storms
Weather The Sea Storms The sea does not wait, it does not ask if you are ready, it rises when it rises, and you are left to face it
By George’s Girl 2026 3 days ago in Poets
The cardboard box
It came in a cardboard box - the life that I had built. A hand-written note, a pair of socks, photos in shattered glass, my mother's hand stitched quilt,
By Amanda Starks3 days ago in Poets
If Only I Could Turn Back Time
If Only I Could Turn Back Time If only I could turn back time, I would step lighter on that forked road, the one turn I took,
By George’s Girl 2026 3 days ago in Poets
The Worst of the Worst Returns!
The trouble I got into my first week of college… it’s something I’d hoped to forget. Naive enough to let someone in… Someone who took my life in his hands and molded it into something unrecognizable.
By Gabriel Shames3 days ago in Poets
Voice
The creature on my shoulder eats my words. Dips at my voice with a hummingbird sticky, sipper’s tongue. I am the one who frames my thoughts, guides them into life with my teeth and tender lips. It is the one who feasts. Snatches every notion. Gulps them, oyster-like, without tasting. Doesn’t seem to care for flavours. Words in anger, words in love. Words in pain or fear or joy. All my words, it catches. Of screaming too, it snatches, wriggling with pleasure. Gorged on my voice, it grows, and I fall silent.
By Lauren Everdell3 days ago in Poets
hypocriSEE
When one is raised by hypocrisy, Is it irony to become a hypocrite? Or is that just the natural progression The way people grow
By Lolly Vieira3 days ago in Poets
The Chest Pounders
I. Stop pounding your chest. Stop waving your guns. Stop spouting your hate. II. Politics is dead Civility is too
By Dean Traylor3 days ago in Poets