Shadows whisper low,
Moonlight cracks the frozen pond—
Something moves beneath.
About the Creator
Brie Boleyn
I write about love like I’ve never been hurt—and heartbreak like I’ll never love again. Poems for the romantics, the wrecked, and everyone rereading old messages.
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More stories from Brie Boleyn and writers in Poets and other communities.
Public Safety Order
Effective immediately, access to Water Source 3B is prohibited under Public Safety Ordinance 14.7. This determination follows a review of ongoing irregularities, unregulated activity, and conditions deemed unsuitable for continued public interaction. Physical barriers will be installed, and all unofficial markers, offerings, and points of entry will be removed to prevent further incident. These measures are not punitive. They are necessary.
By Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales8 days ago in Poets
Dead and Wearing Green
She was wearing that green dress when I first saw her, five years ago to the day. Flowing meadow fabric draped over long legs, thick auburn hair flowing down her back. That smile. Of course, she is still beautiful now. But now she is no longer alive.
By Karen Cave5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
This is perfect scary stuff. I ain't going on the ice.
Lamar was right to share this in the Raise Your Voice thread. This is so well done. Right amound of dread and unknown, all wrapped nicely in a terrifying three-line, seventeen-syllable poem! Well done! You have a new subscriber!
Nice!!! No Ice skating for me today!