Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
Stanza 1 False hope knocks with a gentle sound, Wearing promises softly crowned. It paints tomorrow bright and wide, While hiding the truth it keeps inside.
By shaoor afridiabout a month ago in Poets
I was intact before you. *** Not whole. Just unbroken. *** The dark knew me. It kept its distance. *** Then you arrived
By Aarsh Malikabout a month ago in Poets
The last box was lighter than I expected. Mostly air, and that dry-paper smell of things that used to matter every day.
By Milan Milicabout a month ago in Poets
How many children do you have, and why? ******* We can't ask these questions during a JOB interview - it's weird, and they will SUE us for some unlikely cause of discrimination!!!
By 365poetryabout a month ago in Poets
They say you can't squeeze blood from a stone, but you can certainly try. Lying on a haystack, thoughts pour out -
By Moon Desertabout a month ago in Poets
When nights grow heavy upon your chest, And hope feels like an uninvited guest, Remember this—your shaking soul Was never born to lose control.
By Daily Motivationabout a month ago in Poets
Ever thought about bringing characters to life, born from your very being? I'll let you in on what kind of flavour to use.
I brushed my teeth today, I should get a GOLD star!! I brushed my teeth today, I should get a GOLD star! I brushed my teeth today, I.... should get a GOLD Star!
My coat pockets are full of small nonsense a receipt that’s faded to blank, two coins from a country I don’t live in, a gum wrapper folded into a tight square
In the centre of town, there's a hill. They call it Steep Hill. Climbing it is a genuine fight I'd recommend…
Happy New Year everyone! Here's one of the older poems from my repository talking about memories-Enjoy! 8 May 2022, Late morning
By Cyrusabout a month ago in Poets
The laundry piles up like nesting for the cats who choose marinated undergarments as headrests. Flip flops lay around haphazardly, coming and going as they please.
By Oneg In The Arctic2 months ago in Poets
