vintage

Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.

Jamie Wilkinson2 years ago
Blouse
Her blouse is livid with loose ends of string intertwined like feasting garden-worms. That pompous scuffed tortoise-shell button swinging from a sagging polyester lapel. That feathered coffee stain fr...
Starlight Wolfe2 years ago
Rebirth
In the edges of darkness, a fire blazes. A masking color of orange consuming the skies. Black clouds blot out the moon and stars. It spreads farther and farther, collapsing wood and bushes, consuming ...
Jamie Wilkinson2 years ago
Papyrus
The withered planes of aged papyrus read like shallow pools of cryptic braille. Alleviating the curiosity of tentative fingertips, bringing history to budding flesh. Oil paintings with grease-splotch ...
King's Honour
It was his birth right, what was rightfully his, it seems His spot on the throne his father once sat upon It took more than a birth right to make him King though It was his strength, his courage It to...
Jamie Wilkinson2 years ago
Home
Walls coloured custard with faded silk stripes, edges eaten into threads by starving insects. Crying from dank, rot-punctured ceilings, the deafening drips of porous pipes. Billowing drapes of drowsy ...
Jamie Wilkinson2 years ago
Ruins
The colossal pillars of chipped marble Stand together like jilted lovers, Sharing secrets in stiffness, And crumbling. Standing here, With fractures of glory, And the great richness of loss, We may fi...
Jesi Sin2 years ago
Flame
The flames that burn inside my heart, Are the same as the fires that dwell in hell. Burning me from inside out. It hurts so bad, It burns so hot. Why can't this hate stop? The flames lick my hatred, S...
Jamie Wilkinson2 years ago
Tea Time
Tea bags still soaking in chipped porcelain, pecking at cracks, and caressing stains that linger in molars. Finely ground specs, those murky lovers swim in slow circles, synchronized spirals that sing...
Why I Love Lord Byron
Let me start this off by saying I am a person who doesn’t like poetry all that much. Sure, at this point in my life, I can be mature and respect poetry as a sophisticated craft of literature, but back...
Rachel Lesch2 years ago
Women In Early British Poetry
It is often said that a good story is timeless, but the best literature can also provide an insight into the time and place in which it was created, specifically its values and attitudes. The period s...
Michael Gallegos2 years ago
In the Way of Shakespeare
What weakness is there, Such of flesh and man, Binding both mind and meat, To drag senses mad. To drive sad a heart, And leave regret as repose. Of truth, the world lays bare, Many a perfect feast, To...
Daniel Wade2 years ago
Colossi
When the winding sheet of history coils Stiffly around handrail and chimney stack, I’ll be reminded it’s no longer enough To write poetry, to build monuments From toothed stanzas to the splintering eg...
Michael Gallegos2 years ago
Stepping Into the World
I stepped into the world today, it surrounded me. Like the first moments of departed womb, the cold sting piercing, heart center piece, quivering to the touch. Again the newness of Life's first breath...
Terri Lyons2 years ago
Weez Here
Weez Here We shook the southern dust from our feet for the last time, By foot, mule, train or truck, Dixie is at our back and a new day is ahead, Detroit, Chicago, Philadelphia, and New York, We final...
Terri Lyons2 years ago
Tough Truckin
Tough Truckin’ As the Puritans dried up the alcohol And the influenza virus waned, As another anniversary of Red summer came around As Butter Beans and Susie gained Vaudeville fame, A fever took hold to hit the northbound road, We packed up everything we owned To board the Orange Blossom Train Heading up the Atlantic Coast. As the stock market rose And the stock yards grew, As Henry Ford’s invention Created jobs for glass, rubber and steel, As the trap doors of speakeasies Hid the booze, Jim Cro...
hero polo2 years ago
I Found Water ... to Thirst
Sweat... Dripping swiftly In the middle of the heat, In the middle of the desert, Do not know the south ... north All I know is just keep going Thirst was no longer willing to compromise When I have p...
Jess Kerridge2 years ago
An Account of Ebenezer Scrooge
One cold night in mid winter snow, the clock struck ten as the fire brightly glow. I settled down as I began to retire when a gust of wind blew out the fire. A dim blue light flickered in the dark, se...
Audrey Wierenga2 years ago
Things that Mean Things
I've been cleaning house lately, getting rid of things I don't need. The usual stuff: Blankets, Old clothes, Stuffed animals from years gone by, Books that have gone untouched for years. It didn't tak...