Ode

Torn From The Top
They tell us the veil was thick— not linen you could fold at night, not fabric that stirred when men passed by, but woven dense with warning,
By Hannah Lambert2 months ago in Poets
The Space We Share.
To those who had to grow up too fast, I am still a child. I will live your childhood for you. I should be grown up just like you are, but that little kid inside of me won’t let me. So I walk with her along the path to my childhood home. We play hopscotch and toss stones. I hold the hand of the kid you never got to be, and you play with us—both versions of me. The version that lives on in a house I no longer dwell in, and the current version of me who just can’t keep going.
By April Kirby.2 months ago in Poets
Mirage
Biscuits in the oven Always made the house feel home; Dad’s wet boots, changed that.
By Alaine Hay2 months ago in Poets
Rhiley
Only 5 lbs 6, She ushered in with the snow. My most special gift!
By Alaine Hay2 months ago in Poets
Let's Get This Party Started... Bye!
TOGETHER ----- at olympics, why?... prepare different cultures, a different shock, same wave, a different parking lot. it's zeal! not you...
By K.A. Smith2 months ago in Poets
Scammers, Cash For Gold - Holiday Robbery, Did I Tell You About The Time I Went To A "Pawn" Shop, Did I? #Jamaican #Dilemmas
I know it sort of sounds weird, me robbing the older person. Taking what they didn't give, or perhaps left for me to do. I know it sort of sounds weird, me robbing the older person.
By 365poetry2 months ago in Poets
I Can't Ever Remember The Order - Anyone Knows?
Now Dasher, or was it Prancer? Vixen, or Blixen ? Jamaica is not on the map - and I'm tired of trying to protect them from TREASON!
By 365poetry2 months ago in Poets
The Azure Palate
If color could be savored, a silent, cool delight, Then blue would be a flavor born of fading light. Not bitter, nor too sweet, but like a distant hum,
By The 9x Fawdi2 months ago in Poets
William Westerfeldt House
Western czarina, she is a gothic embodiment of smoke and brass. Her jungle-cat perfume saunters passed in woven gossamer. She’ll put it plainly, as she only can, how she once swam with snow-white saxophones, lap steels, and baby grands, lamenting how her phonographs have since ceased to sing after so many years of breathing in the brine of bay air. Each night is a crushed red spectacle beside the words carved by Anger into the staircase of her spine. She’d abide the elephant in her parlor-room, his aloof squeeze and the rotgut things they'd got up to. On her lacquered breast, they performed their wanton rites to The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and Grateful Dead. Ibex and the Bearcat clung to the waist of her vestibule, while Leopard spread with all the flare of Victorian taxidermy across her belly. She’s long been swindled of sleep behind the back-lit fuchsia of Alamo Square, while dervish stars whirl slovenly above and divvy up the cosmic minutia: stardust, sex, and music.
By Sean2 months ago in Poets
The Outhouse
Sitting around the cabin in the warm sun carefully peeling the labels from frosted moist stubby beer bottles as if divine
By Gerry Thibeault3 months ago in Poets
Winter warmth
Sun glistens on snow My daughter, gleeful, pursues My heart, my soul, warms.
By Chris Walker3 months ago in Poets
Memory Soup
Pot of chicken soup, Savory and warm with the Memory of you * Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this poem, I’d appreciate it so much if you shared it and left a heart, a tip, and a pledge! And subscribe to see more of my writing in the future!
By Jaye Ruggiero-Cash3 months ago in Poets