excerpts

Poets Media isolates the most poignant, powerful, and exquisitely composed verses and quotes in the universal poetry canon.

Let's not talk of snow
Let’s not talk of snow so soon, While we still have a few full moons. Summer has just slipped away, Fall has only begun its stay.
By Homayra Adiba7 months ago in Poets
The First
You were the first The first I could trust with my heart Now the world is tearing us apart And I don’t know what to do
By Atomic Historian7 months ago in Poets
The Taste of Lies
The Taste of Lies “Bitter words linger longer than sweet ones, and some truths never wash away.” Lila always believed that honesty was like sugar—sweet, comforting, and easily savored. But over the years, she learned the other taste of the world: lies.
By waseem khan8 months ago in Poets
How Long Does Grief Echo?
How Long Does Grief Echo? “When love lingers in every step, even silence has a heartbeat.” The house was quiet. Too quiet.
By waseem khan8 months ago in Poets
The Chair Across From Me
The Chair Across From Me Grief leaves its shadows not in silence, but in the spaces we still set for those who never return.
By waseem khan8 months ago in Poets
The Price of Perception
Do not apologize- for thinking too much, for feeling too deeply. Yours is not a damaged mind, but one that cannot unsee
By Danielle Katsouros8 months ago in Poets
I Will Never Be That Woman
I will never be the woman who gets her nails done every ten days. My hands are workers’ hands- built for movement, flexibility,
By Danielle Katsouros8 months ago in Poets
Queue is a Ridiculous Word
Queue is a ridiculous word Its one letter followed by four silent others Perhaps that makes sense The one in the front is ordering
By Atomic Historian8 months ago in Poets
What’s in a Name?
Don’t worry You’re not to blame For I have gone by many a name Three last names Just my first Just my last Sometimes a man, sometimes a woman
By Atomic Historian8 months ago in Poets
POEM - The Fractured Halo
It was not forged in furnaces divine, Nor hammered on a celestial anvil's face, But gathered from the light of a late sign,
By Jacky Kapadia8 months ago in Poets
The Bog
Physical ailments usurp from her brains fog, Sleeping sunken in her belly rests the bog. Watery reeds tangle around her toes,
By Samara K8 months ago in Poets
The Clock with No Hands
In the corner of a dusty room, a clock hangs crooked on the wall. Its face is blank, no hands to move, no ticking sound, no time at all.
By Solene Hart8 months ago in Poets