humor
The Starling’s Song
In the autumn of 2025, the tiny village of Brighthollow, tucked in the folds of the Yorkshire moors, was a place where time seemed to pause. Stone cottages clung to hillsides, and the wind carried the scent of heather and peat. For 34-year-old Lila Grayson, Brighthollow was a refuge. After a decade as a music teacher in London, where the city’s noise drowned her creativity, she’d returned to her childhood village, renting a small cottage once owned by her grandmother. Lila hoped to rediscover her passion for composing, but Brighthollow held secrets that would reshape her life.
By Shohel Rana5 months ago in Poets
“Short Nothing. Let’s see what the algorithm worships today.”
I created this for my bird. We are living in an authoritarian society in America now. Sweetie is my muse for writing and music. I bond well with birds. We both love Syfy and glitches in the matrix when they happen. Floating in a busted bubble I breathe in, breathe out slowly. I do not get many views. I studied AI on my own with Copilot assistance. I like the tools it provides for photography, videos, & music. I write my own stuff. I began music & voice training at an incredibly early age. THAT IS BORING AND NOT INTELLECTUAL ENOUGH! I laugh out loud, I cry out, I sigh, relief from the grinding news of death, destruction, & chaos. I am 76 and still rockin!
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 5 months ago in Poets
Baby Play Gym Mat UK | Safe & Fun Mat for 1-Year-Olds
Play is more than just fun — it’s the foundation for early learning and development. A Baby Play Gym Mat, also known as a Mat for 1-year-olds, is the perfect way to encourage your child’s growth, movement, and curiosity in a safe and engaging environment.
By Baby Shopper5 months ago in Poets
Dear Pain
Dear Pain, It’s like I met you before my parents, a desire you had long before my birthday became a number that I carried. Fired on the logos, for the pathological ways you designed. You knew how much your burden was something I never desired. I always inquired that I’ve been through much, yet never making excuses constantly picking you up. You’re like simple math, I add you take a way, then you multiply in the face of pain, you never subtract unless it’s from me. Betrayal came at a price from you to me. Your elastic agile function comes with a functional structure, categorized horizontally on a multifunctional structure. The surface where I met you felt like a pit, caved in my own carbonation, but blistered instead of bubbled from laying in your shit. Your fire was a blaze that burned long before these pages. So today, I want to write to you from my heart. It’s just me and you, no kids, no lovers, no distractions from your covers. I need the truth. Why did you choose me before I ever knew you? Was it my past life? I’m just trying to figure out, I know you can’t have pain without purpose, so I scribbled you out. Let’s write this out loud. You scream when I touch a place that you try to pretend to hide. Did I leave you with no protection? Did I forget the goddess in me was a woman breeding as my own intellectual? My desires for growth leave you clinging more. I let you walk away with no words, yet you remind me of the pain, that hurts more. Was it my childhood trauma? Or is it the fact that the only woman I had to honor was my mama? I’m asking. I’m saying dear pain what are we gaining? We keep getting back together just for you to do the same thing. You keep treating me like my lover, you come wrapped as a gift, if death and life lie in the power, why does it seem like I’m befitting the thrills? And you keep spinning the wheel. You come in, leave me abandoned and broken, you tell me you love me but only when I’m healing. You make no sense to my antelabium, speaking once without a seance is like chanting at low volumes. You come without being summoned, you hurt without being wanted, you harbor the pain from my insides to break me more for your laughs and my cries. Making me feel less of a woman. You’re cruel and insular, unusual in your way of thinking and always playing with the ventricles of the heartbreaks being encrypted. I delete you and you find ways to come back, I heal and my mind changes only for you to attack. Dear pain, you ache and I don’t think you know. You can only show up in the ways in which you’ll know that I’ll grow. Eventually you know I’ll have to let you go. Not divorcing my lover, but divorcing my somber, the tears versus the joys when I can embrace my summer. It is the pressure that comes with a life being reborn. If I wasn’t given over to pain for the process of being won, how would I know that the games you play are because of how I get things done? We role play the same! You’re Dick and I’m Jane, we just “Go, Go, Go,” and you come “In and Out”, as if you have no place to go and I haven’t figured this out. “I See You.” Dear pain, I don’t do refunds or exchanges, this is your final notice, it’s time for us to become strangers.
By Charelle Landers5 months ago in Poets
