by Amy Brian You walk slowly As we go down the road. Mist flicks our cheeks, One thousand tears in the air. Your boots drag against the gravel, Punctuating each step we take. Pebbles scamper, making blissful declarations: Pop, pop, pop. The wind gives us his hello; Its rhythm can…
by Shannon Still In such a short time, within a blink of an eye, our life can be over and then with a sigh… We look back on the story we so hastily wrote, and ask where the time went ever so remote.
by Amy Southard Sing to me, Your song alluring The melody that calls Lost sailors to their deaths. Entice me With sweet music My eyes to your body Like moths to a flame Hypnotized, Heartbeat unsteady I’ve found euphoria In a lullaby. Your tune begging me As our bodies entwine,…
by Amy Covel The future isn’t built On empty words Or broken promises Nor even the mistakes of the past But on the actions of the present It’s what you do today That will change the future Mend the present And put to rest The past I’ve heard it said…
by Chelle Royal The sounds of the ocean rush through the opening of a seashell, capturing the memories of a seaside village within its soul. Infinite sunsets witnessed, lives reincarnated, countless Atlantic baptisms, sandcastle turrets, precious keepsake of a summer spent in the sand. A shell blasts from the barrel…
by Amy Covel I’ve become accustomed To eating alone Out of little glass jars While I stare out the window And count the stars The heavens know That one lonely soul’s Not a constellation Of a crowded table All alone.
by The Poet Darkling I always speak the truth – regardless of its relevancy to the conversation – and the truth is I knew she wanted it; knew she was saving it expressly for after supper, she’d told me as much but I didn’t care… not right then. The night…
by Carli Chisenall I think a lot. I think a lot about death. The soft whisper of a soul, finally escaping its prison of flesh and sin. That one last exhausted breath. Solace, at last. I think a lot. I think a lot about life. It is everything and nothing….
by The Poet Darkling He was nice momma saidI had to talk to him two days a week and she would buy me ice cream after. I saw him Tuesdays & Thursdays at one o’clock.I saw him two days a week for two years. My mother told him I was full of the…
by Jaclyn Knaus On broken wings Shattered Bruised Dancing through the storms of life Without an ounce of hope left Lost Alone Afraid With nowhere to belong In a family that the butterfly Once called her own Abandoned in a cocoon of hatred Ostracized Shunned An outcast from her own…