Stories in Poets that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.
Impermanent ones did this Made time a construct then a commodity Enshrined it in copyright Carved district zones Grades and delineations for trade
By The Dani Writer12 days ago in Poets
Not every message deserves a monument. 🐶🤲 Lina taps her phone. Scrolls. Light tweaks transform her face. Her shoulders taut.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin13 days ago in Poets
The wind is surely asking something; it raps meekly on my old window. Should ever I deign to answer it, I fear where it might ask me to go.
By Gabriel Huizenga15 days ago in Poets
My memories remaining young while my body decays, - the beginnings of pains, - my bloodied fingertips carrying your sharpest words.
By Reece Beckett18 days ago in Poets
Glide into the emerald pillows of grass waves ply your wanders and wonders Breathe in the blushing blue thyme meadow, as it gives way to tawnied garden ground
By John R. Godwin15 days ago in Poets
Pieces of land holding past and present bands visible in my blind spot, blemishes of time causing the past to rewind. Memories never fading
By Jacqueline Elaine Hudson15 days ago in Poets
I grew up In the desert, an ecosystem So delicate, every Living thing must be Sturdy to survive The heat, the monsoon
By Bex Jordan17 days ago in Poets
My natural body's a sin to mankind... It's hairy in places that men do not like. Sorry, I'm a grown woman, Not a Chia pet for trimmin',
By CT Idlehouse19 days ago in Poets
What if she had been raised by sunlight, by the gentle pull of dreams? What if she had been raised by sunlight, by the gentle pull of dreams?
By Tina D. Lopez19 days ago in Poets
In a deep forest, under an old oak, in a small cabin, lived an ugly witch with many warts on her face. In a nearby meadow, girls were picking berries,
By Seema Patel20 days ago in Poets
You know everything about me but how..... I don't know how you know but you know but I'm pretty sure you know what I ate for breakfast
By Colleen Walters16 days ago in Poets
I. One year, a procession of cardboard boxes, the hereditary lances I discover on my tongue. Barbed reaching for not my milk in not my refrigerator,
By Morgana17 days ago in Poets
