• Profile picture of NAVINA

    NAVINA posted in the group National Poetry Month

    THE STORM’S EYES

    Tornado you seek
    The darkness
    I feel weak ..
    The skies in complete blackness
    Your power I’ll see all week.

    Clouds move like spilled ink
    On a grey canvas
    That I left to streak
    Brushing with slugs
    As an artist, you can’t peek.

    My art smears as the storm claims
    Bold dark colors
    Watch how it fades
    I’m happy…Read More

    Profile PhotoProfile PhotoProfile Photo +1 liked this
  • Profile picture of Crimsin

    Crimsin wrote a new post

    play

    mannacle thought, make it your bitchdon't allow time, to give you lipnever hesitate demand your wayyour ego speaks for itself not one to be playedvixen be damnedshe's not the right onewhen there is nonetonight is yourstake midnight by the...

    Read More
    6 Comments
    • The last line lands in a way that makes you want to reread this again, and let it linger. This caught my breath.

      • hello dearest Brandon good morning thank you graciously I’m happy you like it ❤️

    • This reads almost like an invocation, a chant of summoning. Much enjoyed this. As Brandon said, it invites rereading 🧡

      • hello beautiful Willow thank you lovely one I appreciate you thoughts these just uncurrents of feeling rising ❤️

    • Powerfully penned, Brenda. Excellent write with dark undertones my friend. I concur with Willow and Brandon. Amazing read. Appreciate you.

      Damian

  • almost

    I was gonna jump
    but I needed someone to watch
    so I waited
    and while waitin
    the moment passed
    and I forgot why I climbed
    so I came back down
    quieter than I went up

    Profile PhotoProfile PhotoProfile Photo +1 liked this
  • Profile Photo
    National Poetry Month
    Public Group
    31 Members
    Profile PhotoProfile Photo liked this
  • Profile picture of Willow

    Willow posted in the group National Poetry Month

    Sensory Memories

    “why are you so addicted to popcorn?”

    because on Saturday evenings…
    when I was small…
    (too young to know of more exciting things…
    like theaters and urban adventures)
    there was a table that became an arena

    where board games and Uno took over
    and we gathered as a family…
    no chores…
    otherwise idle…Read More

    Profile PhotoProfile PhotoProfile Photo +2 liked this
    4 Comments
    • Aw, I can smell the corn popping from here – a really atmospheric poem.

      • Thank you 😊 I make popcorn every week, never recapture those moments but it brings back the memories

    • Willow, I make the popcorn the same way your grandmother did, 3 quart pot, melt the butter and mix. But I must confess, the popcorn goes in a big bowl and I eat it all from there. Thanks for sharing the popcorn….er… I mean the poem. ;0) -Curt

      • There were a minimum of a dozen of us at that table. There would have been no room for a big bowl. I’ve never seen a bowl the size she used for the popcorn since then. I use an air popper but yes, it goes in a bowl and it’s all mine too. 😊

  • Load More Posts

My Friends

Profile Photo
Kas
@kassteel
Profile Photo
Night Goddess
@thenightgoddess
Profile Photo
Ornithophile
@penguinphile
Profile Photo
Itsme_Mayumi
@itsmemayumi

Groups

Group logo of Unsung Underground
Unsung Underground
Private Group
Group logo of Welcome Group
Welcome Group
Public Group
Group logo of The Art of Poetry
The Art of Poetry
Public Group

My Recent Posts

My Lullaby in the Sky

New Report

Close