vintage

Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.

The First Anchor
Lead—responsibility without constant reward is a challenge accepted at birth. The pillars, tasked with breaking and rebuilding each curse of life with bare hands.
By Marcus Hill6 months ago in Poets
She walks in beauty, like the night…
She walks in beauty, like the night… The street is empty, but she carries the weight of a thousand silent eyes. The kind of beauty you don’t notice all at once,
By अkriति Chaड़k6 months ago in Poets
If life doesn't kill me nostalgia will. AI-Generated.
He sits in the corner of the heart, like a shadow that never leaves its owner. He comes uninvited, in sudden moments of silence, amidst the hustle of work and the noise of life. He is not a passing guest, but a permanent tenant in the apartment of memory, paying his rent with hidden tears and sorrowful smiles. He needs no words; his eyes know everything in the heart before its owner does.
By Manal6 months ago in Poets
You Weren't Wearing Blue
You weren’t wearing blue when we said goodbye. It was raining, or threatening to, The kind of sky that presses down, Like guilt, or a name you never wanted.
By Aspen Noble6 months ago in Poets
A madman
A man that would be ready to give up his soul and his beating heart, believing that mine is worth more is a madman. A heart of a woman that is pure is worth dying for. A soul of a woman that is in need for care and love is worth living for. A sacrifice that can be called a matter of honour is when a loved one sacrificed themselves long before you even knew what a unconditional love means.
By Sleeping Pills 6 months ago in Poets
SUMMER SOLSTICE
Drove the famous Alaska Highway. Road twisting and turning, done without a latte. The route didn't go through Nebraska.
By Babs Iverson6 months ago in Poets
Why We Keep the Letters We’ll Never Send
The drawer was jammed again. I yanked at it, muttering under my breath, and a thin cascade of envelopes slid forward, fanning across the floor like pale autumn leaves. They smelled faintly of paper and time—slightly yellowed, edges curling inward, some stained with coffee rings or thumb-smudges.
By Muhammad Sabeel7 months ago in Poets
Extinguishing Andúril
Gondor called for aid But all the cards had been played No one rode out Because Gondor had alienated all of Middle Earth
By Atomic Historian7 months ago in Poets
The Fear Before The Breakthrough Is Found
I See what I am Doing Now... But I Fear... I Fear that "This"... Is So Much Larger than Myself... So Incredibly Important...
By Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, DFM, DHM, DAS (hc)7 months ago in Poets
Where A Legacy Is Created
Legacy. It is a word that I think about often. What is it? How does One Create One? Why is it that We Seem to be Obsessed with the Idea?
By Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, DFM, DHM, DAS (hc)7 months ago in Poets
It kills me to write this
Start quietly. Be so silent that the crickets she hears… hear crickets. Leave so gently she won't be able to comprehend how her house could blow over from a such a mild breeze.
By Daniel K7 months ago in Poets
Banh Giay: The Circle of Tradition. AI-Generated.
Bánh Giầy, round and pure as snow, A symbol of roots, where love will grow. Sticky rice, soft and smooth in its form, Wrapped with care, a gesture warm.
By Anh Nguyen duc7 months ago in Poets