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.
Posts Tagged poem
Siren Song
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,…
Today
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…
Booked Seats
by Elizabeth Penn Liz tapped her foot, checking the clasp again on her seatbelt which was pulled tightly across her gray pencil skirt. She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear and smoothed down the lines on her floral blouse, trying to relax. Everyone had just finished loading the…
Shells
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…
Alone
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.
The Divorce of Mr. Nell
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…
Go Round
by Amy Covel There I was, going around in circles. My companions run beside me to the tune that has become our source of life. Without it, we are still. Without it, there are no smiling faces. The conductor has brought us to life. We bear upon our backs the…
I Think A Lot
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….
The Talking Doctor
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…