Sonnet

Separation is Death
Detachment is Passing This sonnet is about the torment of detachment. That's what the writer says in the event that you at any point pay attention to the wails of an individual, or take a gander at the manner in which two isolated cranes sob for one another, or see the tears moving down somebody's cheek right now of separating, then, at that point, you will maybe comprehend that detachment is passing.
By Creative Chronicles2 years ago in Poets
Hailstones. Content Warning.
Thanks to Poppy again for raising another challenge to get us Vocal people thinking and creating. You can read about this challenge here:
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Poets
Made With Love
Inhale, savor it, a taste that lingers A melody of joy, and heartache too Bright strokes from sunset’s paint laden fingers
By D.K. Shepard2 years ago in Poets
The Decline of Organic Intelligence
How frequently does it occur to you When you pose questions to other humans And they pause before expressing a view That this brief hesitation illumines
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
The City
Just a few of my feelings expressed as a short sonnet. At the moment I am feeling that I should not be sharing my work, but that will change.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Poets
INTJ "The Strategist's Soliloquy"
With mind most keen, a strategist's gaze, The mastermind, in thought, doth ever maze. A soul of logic, plans with iron hand,
By Diorino Galvano2 years ago in Poets
Visitors
Visitors should not come over to judge my parenting style. I tell my in-laws I know I’m a good mother. Anyone who visits me will always see a bright smile
By Diani Alvarenga2 years ago in Poets
Into the Abyss
On the seventh of October 1849, a vigorously inebriated man was tracked down lying in the drain outside a bar in Baltimore, and as is conventional with inebriated men in drains, this one cut a genuinely unremarkable figure. He was murmuring to himself unintelligibly; all in all, he might have been any savored any drain anyplace on the planet. In any case, this man wasn't simply anybody; he was Edgar Allan Poe, quite possibly of the best author who's always lived. Precisely the way in which he wound up in that drain in 1849 remaining parts quite possibly of the greatest secret throughout the entire existence of writing. Presently, I can read your mind; isn't it horrendous clear the way in which a very tipsy man wound up in a drain outside a bar? In any case, hold on for me, since this plot is about Poe.
By Euphoria 2 years ago in Poets
Dangerous Safety
How safe do we really wish to become? Surely, yearning for safety from some things Seems natural, rational and wholesome;
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
The Student Sonnet. Top Story - March 2024.
Note: I have pretty much been dead on my feet this week with the midterm exams, weather weirdness in Canada, and the usual obsessions and concerns over money and future work (thank you, stress headache...stressache?). So, this may not be my best work, but I think it explains where my head is at and what I have had to deal with...
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Poets
The Gentle Beast
From the east he roams Having never found a home of his own Always dragging his stone with him Wherever he goes it goes
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
She is the ocean
How do we know the sea deeply; this vast accompaniment to shore? In truth ... never so completely; by acquaintance, nothing more.
By Tim Grace2 years ago in Poets