Stories tagged “POETRY”

  • Seasons

    How horrid to be “Winter” without a coat or wood,or old without choices . Better ’Spring" to feel the joy and laughter of youth,taste the effervescence bubbles,exuberance and omnipotence. Or “Summer” with its warmth ...

    • Author: Marli
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
    • 3 out of 5
  • Sick Day

    Today Is a Sick Day Today Is a Day To call the Office And let Them know You won’t be Coming in Today Is a Day To Laze Under the Covers To Snuggle Up Close and Cozy And Listen To The Rain Outside Today Is a Day Where If We Feel Like It Later We...

    • Author: BARomero
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • Why I write Poetry

    sometimes i write poetry because it is easier no need to form complete … you can ignore all rules of grammar:: and spellling and it is considered art

    • Author: Oy
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • Carni the Carny from Kearney

    Carni the carny from Kearney Ran a most peculiar show. We’d heard raves from Old Uncle Barney And so we decided to go… The site was a sight And we weren’t laggin’. She used chocks made of chalk To keep wagons from waggin’. There were acts...

    • Author: BARomero
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • What's wrong with poetry?

    I’ve never seen a poem as a featured ficlet and I don’t know why Poetry is emotion Poetry is pure Poetry is writing too. So comment on a poem And rally around Let’s get a poem UP THERE!!!

    • Author: Oy
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
  • Sometimes I wonder if there is ink in these veins [poem]

    I am not so much a who as a where Constantly in flux Moving butterfly-like from one idea To the next Try to pin me down and you’ll only cut yourself On paper-dolls and crumpled balls Of ideas best left in the waste bin Sometimes I wonder if there...

  • Remember Broken Promises...

    Remember broken promises From when we were kids All those it was meant to be’s All the things we did Remember broken promises Bestest friends for life? I can’t believe that I believed You meant even in strife Remember broken promises You sa...

  • Whether the Weather

    It feels like sunshine when you smile. The joy illuminates your face, the sunlight brightening my day. This wond’rous feeling stays a while, It lingers, lighting up the place, making me smile too. That’s your way. I long to see that grin. T...

    • Author: Ben Paddon
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • Emily Dickinson 2.0

    I heard a fly buzz when I died. It was still buzzing, flinging its tiny blue self against the cold window, when I came back the next day. I had signed away what portion of me I could make assignable—namely, that dim and bottled essence some call ...

    • Author: jesteram
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
    • 5 out of 5
  • Emily Dickinson Comes Back

    I heard a fly buzz when I died. It was still buzzing, flinging its tiny blue self against the cold window, when I came back the next day. That strange and corruptive germ that had been robbing Death of his rightful charges had gripped me. I could feel ...

    • Author: jesteram
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
    • 4 out of 5
  • Poor Little Fool

    he’s got a scar on his forehead where his halo fell down and the moon shines down on this hollow town but I can’t see a thing eyes like a confessional, words that sting like bees I’ve told you things I never even dared to speak the on...

  • That One Time, With the Pizza Chick

    Dear Penthouse Once upon a midnight dreary, drunk of rum, eyes a-bleary, Over bent a porcelain god, praying o’er days of yore. While I wretched, body sapping, suddenly I heard a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my hotel door. “...

  • That One Time, With the Pizza Chick - Part II

    “You can’t pay, got no cash? Spent yer dough on this porno stash? Tell you what, I’m kinda bored. Come here ’n close the door.” Course I did as she had said & moved in closer to the bed, Much too quick for spinning head. Tripped &...

  • 19th Century Love

    “Let us go, my dear,” I said, in whispers soft and sweet. She giggled in reply and answered, “It’s 15 pounds per man I meet.” I agreed her price was due and fair, and we continued on our walk. She laughed again, took my ar...

  • a structured response

    P O E T R Y nEEDS nOT Constant structure… S o m e t h i n g s Simply cannot be cOnTaInEd by b o ~u~ ~ – n – ~ ==d :.a.: ¿r? ~~i -e- s of convention Must we p-e-r-p-e-t-u-a-l-l-y stick to t r i v i a l formalities, and chastise thos...

  • And Not Get Washed Away - Poem

    And sunken in the cherry sands A sleeping sun awaits, That hiding cannot find it’s soul And drowsing learns to hate. The bloody sands are ripe with dew, The sun in shadow sits It tosses as they lengthen And rots within the pit. And newly washed w...

  • am rating

    They get the short end of the stick. They get shafted. They get the raw end of the deal. They take it on the chin. They take a licking and keep on ticking. They bend over backwards. They draw the short straw-um, i mean they ward the shorts warts.

  • The Sense (Simple Poetry Challange)

    WE WE WE WE are the SOUND, SOUND, SOUND, SOUND, and the SiGhT, AND the SIght, And the Sight. Absolute S I G H T. WE ARE.

    • Author: DirtMap
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
  • War Amongst Impossibles (poetry Challange)

    Weaponhadrays cuckooed firedetonrees amongst Liver Bush, and the screams of Liverinians made the entire world go hush. Blood formed clouds weeping for all life in life. The sounds, the hush, the firedetonrees, A chaos of things, brought on by knife an...

    • Author: DirtMap
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
  • Drift by

    If when you look into the sky And see a bird drift by on high Think of me and my final hour And hope that bird drifting is me

    • Author: Erneg
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
  • Sound and Sense - Poem

    Upon my shelf there sits a small, green book Well used, though not by me, but well thought of. It tells of sound and sense, of form and rhyme, Things I have learned since I was but a child. Things of the heart and soul that call the mind. Poets pen the...

  • Orange

    Brother Neimus bowed his shaved head to Brother Paulus as he passed him on the way from evening prayers. The scent of citrus blossoms wafted through the stone arch windows. He paused and glanced out at the acres of neatly-tilled fields. Curious, he saw...

  • Fire Storm Australia

    The fires rolled up the mountain The embers flew over the hills We didn’t know how the fires got here And I guess we never will. We tried to outrun the fires We ran as fast as we could But some people holed up in cars And others in houses of wo...

    • Author: Marli
    • Posted over 5 years ago.
  • Where Poets Come From (part one)

    Poets are more than conceived. They are transformed to meet the eye of life. What do I mean by this? A poet has unparalleled depth and passion blazing inside of them throughout time, and they have the remarkable ability to convert that into words. The ...