Limerick

The Language of Falling Leaves
🍂 Introduction: When Nature Teaches Us to Begin Again Every season carries its own poetry, but autumn speaks in a language unlike any other. The falling leaves are not just signs of endings—they are whispers of renewal, reminders that change, though sometimes painful, is necessary for growth.
By Nadeem Shah 7 months ago in Poets
Ten Seconds Before the Train Arrives
Ten seconds. The station smells of rain-soaked concrete and old newspapers. Somewhere down the track, metal wheels hum like a distant storm. The display says Arrival: 0:00, but the train hasn’t yet broken through the tunnel’s mouth.
By waseem khan7 months ago in Poets
Scenery of Society
Julio, every summer you come back and make me relive these tortuous memories. Julio, do you remember the day you almost drowned? I do. Julio, I can't escape your punishment. Julio, I want to know why you cursed me. Julio, I remember our difficult times before July, when we couldn't start over.
By Ca$imuz7 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
How to Vanish Without Leaving a Shadow
Forget your name— let it dissolve like salt in rain, until no syllable can find you. Erase your scent— walk through fields where wild winds live, and let them carry you to nowhere.
By Misbah 7 months ago in Poets
Ghosts
How do you talk to the ghost of the unknown? What to do when you’re alone in room full of people It’s your personal rain cloud on a sunny day
By Atomic Historian7 months ago in Poets
this is the sum. Content Warning.
***if you are in immediate danger, call 911. for confidential support and resources, you may contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1.800.799.7233(SAFE)***
By ⸘jason alan‽7 months ago in Poets
Mid-fold
Half the laundry is still warm. I fold it anyway, creased in the quiet way my mother never taught me. The dryer hums behind me,
By Oula M.J. Michaels7 months ago in Poets
The Nights You Don’t Talk About
There are nights you don’t talk about— The ones where sleep feels like betrayal. When silence screams in forgotten tones,
By Umar Amin7 months ago in Poets
Bumbershoot
The goosebump hair is called bumbershoot They stick up to the clouds like a galoot It likes to give itself a shave A close cut is what it crave
By Caitlin Charlton7 months ago in Poets
Party Animal
Don’t make me go out tonight But thank you for the invite I’ll stay at home in bed My social battery’s dead Ugh, okay, fine, alright!
By Leslie Writes7 months ago in Poets
Whispers of the Forgotten Wind
By Nadeem Shah I. The Wind Remembers The wind does not forget It gathers our yesterdays And scatters them gently across the pines—
By Nadeem Shah 7 months ago in Poets