Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Poets.

The Easter Bunny
Come Parents, Come Children I wonder if they knew that the rabbits this year felt that they were totally screwed *****************************************
By Susan Paytona day ago in Poets
Becomings
What have I become Something in between Always on the run Someone no one else has seen -- Hidden behind the mask Carry it all upon my back
By Jason Mortona day ago in Poets
Sixes and Sevens
Light years of memories, each distilled in a potion of its own: one summer night, I tossed pairs, trying to lose at strip poker
By Harper Lewisa day ago in Poets
let’s do it
The song of death is always playing in the other room Never clearly ringing in these ears Getting close to the final chord will change everything
By Ann Craftera day ago in Poets
Raindrops and Sunshine
Tiptoeing through the daisies Splashing in the puddles Clad in a bright coat and galoshes Twirling a tricolored umbrella
By Mother Combsa day ago in Poets
Your Heart Made Of Gold Is The Look My Eyes Can Always Handle
In this inhibition full of minimal grandeur, your heart made of gold is the look my eyes can always handle. Tangible things never do me the best, but when you touched my heart, I became truly blessed. My shelved life was no longer a burden; I started to look out more. I'm ready for your love to out pour.
By Arlo Wyseea day ago in Poets
blood clots and goosebumps. Content Warning.
sorry to break it to you but in order to continue you must prove that the thing inside you is worthless and has no reason to live.
By Ruby Reda day ago in Poets
My Souls Winter
I think I'll wait until tomorrow. I'm just tired right now. I know I said tomorrow, but tomorrow's tomorrow seems better somehow.
By Timothy S. Vennella day ago in Poets
The Singer Who Could Not Sing On Stage
The Singer Who Could Not Step Forward She held the weight of hidden sound, a voice that lived beneath her breath, it stirred within her quiet chest,
By George’s Girl 2026 a day ago in Poets
Cloudy feelings
Why do clouds feel sad? There’s no emotion with them… But we miss the sun.
By Gabriel Shamesa day ago in Poets
The Man Who Almost Lived Here
He started returning on Thursdays. Not dramatically, of course! No thunder, no mirrors cracking, No cinematic violation of physics.
By Kaliyah Myersa day ago in Poets
Reality or Fantasy
Days fly like birds on the wing, time never seems to stand still. Many times I often wonder— Is it me in the mirror
By Rasma Raistersa day ago in Poets