Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
Comfort for me, Is sitting out back under the apple tree, With a good book in hand, One I’ve read a dozen times before,
By J.Bee3 years ago in Poets
The Forgotten Queen It all started with dark eyes and a sinister smile That seemed pretty innocent to me In the Beginning
By Amystic3 years ago in Poets
The game of life is rigged Death always wins Crawling on our fins Now obsessed with our sins From the dawn of rain
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
Soft, Yet wiry in places, My fingers running through and along in habit; Such a simple action fading away the noise,
My imagination blanket is calling, Safest refuge of mine, A place all for myself, Undisturbed and one of a kind. Weary, dejected or somber,
Five senses; Comfort found in each one, Like the oddly soothing smell of rotting apples decaying out back home in autumn
Opened the door and so my mind "What is there?" "Just a mirror and some furniture. Oh, sorry, nothing yet." I closed my eyes, and suddenly the room was full
By Andreea Oprea3 years ago in Poets
The sun embraces the moon The fun encounters the spoon One dun squires for one last loon And the run stopped afternoon ; "She has gone, she is gone. Her smiling face no longer shines." Thus think the crowd, "Her tone Will be missing. For many lines."
By Francis L3 years ago in Poets
I feel most comfortable when I’m at home, I curl up next to my dog with my Kindle in hand, Or I play video games or write while she snores quietly beside me,
By Jade M.3 years ago in Poets
The last time I saw him I made a promise I would come back for him. I never got to fulfill that promise because of my family that declared me the black sheep with no spoken words.
By Emily Radford(Rising Phoenix)3 years ago in Poets
A comfy evening quint and slow. A romantic gesture goes hand and hand. Slowly as the evening progresses we love watching our netflix episodes.
A break in a quiet room, A front door left open A day worn long, A weight held on shoulders A mind heavy, A body weary, A soul tired
By The Invisible Writer3 years ago in Poets
