Prose

Morning Keeps the Change
Change is the rumor that turned out to be true, the one tenant that never quits the lease, and yet we keep acting like it just moved in yesterday. We ask for it at the ballot box, at the mirror, in whispered prayers, then flinch when it starts rearranging the furniture of our days. This is me trying to get honest about how we live as both magnet and shield toward it, how we court it, resist it, and slowly turn into it in all the shapes it takes.
By Richard Patrick Gage2 months ago in Poets
the spark extinguishing. Content Warning.
vibrant and saturated the colors of a true heart never fade gradients arrange and repeat the values lay broken a square of earth down ten feet
By ⸘jason alan‽2 months ago in Poets
the roots of reverie
our love was a sapling, thin-stemmed, fragile, poised in quiet confidence. it was indescribable, the bliss i felt, growing in your taciturn nature.
By Daniel K2 months ago in Poets
The Last Light
The night carried a thin layer of moisture, as if the rain still trembled behind the clouds. On the edge of the old town stood a worn-out house whose window lamps often extinguished on their own. But tonight… tonight a strange and vivid light gleamed from within.
By Anas Khan2 months ago in Poets
Roots of Tolerance, Tendrils of Kindness
What is the life purpose of the deer, raccoons, and birds? Is it different from humans, or are we the same, with our intention to live, experiencing this world for the sake of life? To wake up, go through the day, working and resting, eating and sleeping - the same for the creatures as for the humans.
By Andrea Corwin 2 months ago in Poets
The Night I Finally Told Myself the Truth
That night, the house was quieter than it had ever been. No music humming in the background. No phone buzzing on the counter.
By TariqShinwari2 months ago in Poets
The Words I Never Sent: A Love Letter I Wrote Too Late
I have written a thousand poems in my life, but only one ever frightened me. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the truth they carried—truth I never dared to speak aloud.
By TariqShinwari2 months ago in Poets
When the Story Forgets Itself
I've been thinking lately that sometimes all I'm good for is bad metaphors and nonsensical whatever you want to call it. Some say art, some say a futile attempt to prove that I am anything more than whatever you want to call me. Working backwards or counting breaths
By Paul Stewart2 months ago in Poets
Tallahassee Eulogy
For having the only house on the street that boasted a banana tree, a gazebo, and a second floor. . For the great oaks draped in Spanish moss like the beards of an extinct dwarven species, its rough feel that made me shudder with a kind of fascinated dread.
By Raistlin Allen2 months ago in Poets
When life gives you tangerines
An infamous saying goes, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” It means making the best out of a bad situation. Lemons symbolize hardships, lemonade for resilience. But what if life gives tangerines? What do we do?
By fleeting.serenics2 months ago in Poets
Lady Ghost
I. Window slides open, one clear night. It slides open, and my lady ghost appears, floating in the cold, cold breeze.
By Dean Traylor2 months ago in Poets
Beneath The Willow Tree
Beneath the willow tree I rest and marvel at all its leaves have seen Memories incarnate of when this was meadow
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Poets