vintage
Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
Short and sweat
In the moon light we walked together Happy feel good at sight Today smiling at those days happier They were short and sweat
Write Your Top Story
Write a Top Story As I sit and read story after story set before me, I wonder how the authors are and consider what I see.
Dan R FowlerPublished about an hour ago in PoetsEncounter a poet outside his poems
The duality of existence encapsulates the brevity of strife, Often called a dreamer, I envisioned what horizons that strayed afar looked like.
Hridya SharmaPublished about 2 hours ago in PoetsLife-2
Life is precious Life is short Write your story We’ve all been knocked off of our emotional bicycles But we will find our way back on in our own time
Atomic HistorianPublished about 8 hours ago in PoetsElvis’ Blue Suede Blues
Elvis had a pair of shoes, That was special, oh so fine, He called them his blue suede shoes, And they were his pride and shine.
Ewa PatokaPublished about 20 hours ago in PoetsTo Dance
Have you ever seen a love so divine as that of the Sun and Earth? Both destined, like a mother and father entranced in
Antoni NimaPublished about 20 hours ago in PoetsJack and the mouse
There was an old dilapidated and haunted house jack entered the abandoned place with a crouse jack heard a noice and soon evade
When A Heart Breaks
In sorrow's grip, they say your heart can break. Yet such a claim, I find not wholly true. For it's not pain alone that hearts forsake,
Antoni NimaPublished about 23 hours ago in PoetsLayla's Eyes
By day, the sun ignites the sand, A scorching gaze across the land. But in your eyes, Layla, I see, A moonlit oasis, cool and free.
mahmoud elsaadPublished about 23 hours ago in PoetsThe First Time
Out in the golden haystacks at midnight, summer comes ablaze, and we fall nose to nose, for the first time. Your breath smells like peaches,
Antoni NimaPublished a day ago in PoetsWinter Morning
There's something to be said about the silence of the dawn blanketed across molecules celeste, like a silky cloth laid out by the moon.
Antoni NimaPublished a day ago in PoetsWinter Mornings
There's something to be said, about the silence of the dawn, blanketed across molecules celeste, like a silky cloth
Antoni NimaPublished a day ago in Poets