Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
I once promised myself to never make the same mistake everybody else does… I promised to not continue the endless cycle of being played again,
By Edvin Sterling2 months ago in Poets
You cook, you clean, you become the second mother. The younger kids are your siblings and run to you as if they had no other.
By Yalisa Matos2 months ago in Poets
That first night: the laughter, the music, the love The first date: the music, the poetry, the moon The road trip through a hurricane, my yoga pants ruined by rain, the Violent Femmes, and that morning at the Hirshorn, the Rodin
By Harper Lewis2 months ago in Poets
After the show, at the end of the day My heart sinks deeper into surrounding tissue My essence molds itself back into existence
By Oneg In The Arctic2 months ago in Poets
Eat constantly. You’ll never get bored. Suck crustaceans, dance when angered, your growl– will fall like a whisper.
By Teresa Renton2 months ago in Poets
a creeping feeling engulfed my body muscles heavy but elastic mysterious beat ramping up slowly evocative and animastic I pump myself out of the deep pocket
By K.B. Silver 2 months ago in Poets
I have always wanted a bouquet of friends. Colorful, vivid with the scent of life. One of each of my favorite flowers Plucked from a year, a generation, a time.
By Silver Daux2 months ago in Poets
It's never asked all too seriously. Just a question, passing by. - What do you do for fun? I say I like to write. - What do you write about?
By Latisha Jean2 months ago in Poets
I know, you want to turn away, For me to teach you how To make walls so thick that pain accumulates Like leaves, decomposing in the external shadow.
By Hannah Moore2 months ago in Poets
let it out. . start with the plates: break them. watch them shatter on graffiti-covered concrete. scream. scream until you've shredded your voice, your lungs, your throat to
By Raistlin Allen2 months ago in Poets
We are in the last hours of the Wood Snake year, and it shows. * The cosmic shrugs are getting longer, harder – birth contractions marking
By David Muñoz2 months ago in Poets
It’s a wet green chill As the dew witnesses a fragile season down the hill Stamping the ground, a foggy mist spills, And anchoring around its bend, and threading thro’ the glades,
By Madhu Goteti 2 months ago in Poets
