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Fia Naturie posted in the group National Poetry Month
Not the right time
I wandered into this strange land
The beauty I have discovered
With no one to hold my hand
Only a bag and cloak to coverI did not expect to find
A place to call my own
I moved space and time
Wanting to find a homeThen I met you
My world became so small
All my world views
Mean nothing to me at allIf I…Read More
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Willow posted in the group National Poetry Month
Break Out
do you exist in a cocoon…
locked up…buttoned down…
but never evolving?or do you break out…
spread wings meant for flight
and soar into the night? -
PAR (Paulo Acácio Ramos) posted in the group National Poetry Month
April 26th – Water, Dust, and the Space Between Us
April 26th returns
like a remote memory,
one of those pale, trembling ones
that no longer knows
if it belongs to you
or to the air around you.It brings back
what it was
between the two of us,
not the words,
not the gestures,
not even the moments,
but the texture of it,
the faint…Read More -
Fia Naturie posted in the group National Poetry Month
Silence
Sit in silence
Watch and observe
They tell you things that are unspoken
As they are speakingHidden truths
Covered in a blanket of lie’s
Design to confusePracticed smiles
Paired with dead eyes
You wait…Wait to see what’s the hook
What’s the product
What’s the goalThere is only one purpose
When you approach…Read More -
redzone posted in the group National Poetry Month
Once: No Going Back
It’s the 25th day of Poetry Month,
and this must be said
with the honesty of reality.There was hope once,
it flowed easily
from Summer’s green fields
strewn with wildflowers,
to Winter’s white,
with snowflakes of individuality.
But, it was a false hope,
one seen through illusion’s eye.
A lie,
told over and ove…Read More - Load More Posts
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My Recent Posts

Searching Through The Dreams
- May 31, 2026

Where Scoundrels Taste The Rain
- May 29, 2026
I wanna fly, Willow. I want to feel the wind on my face, taste the thrill of love, and why the crickets sing or the reason why words form into poetry. I may be old, but I ain’t dead yet. ;0) Cool poem Willow. -Curt