Sonnet

Sundial Sonnets
They say every city keeps one secret rooftop, a place where the noise grows shy and the wind remembers your name. The rooftop garden above Building Forty-Three was such a place. Most people assumed the rusted elevator simply didn’t go that high anymore, but the truth was simpler: the garden didn’t want to be found by anyone who wasn’t ready to slow down.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Poets
Kintsugi 3
There is beauty in you And in me Is it seeing flaws in the beauty? Or beauty in the flaws? Does it matter? We all see beauty differently
By Atomic Historian4 months ago in Poets
Always in All Ways
Always sounds grand in the moment An expression of hope To conquer every unknown valley and slope Little do we know that always means in all ways
By Atomic Historian4 months ago in Poets
Danu
Awaken my soul I hear your call But I understand nothing Detached from The Otherworld A forgotten past Disconnected
By Atomic Historian4 months ago in Poets
Youth, I curse thee!
Youth, I curse thee! You have fooled the brightest, Tricked ones with the conscience, With coaxing schemes that dazzle, bold and sly;
By Une Femme4 months ago in Poets
In The Hall Of Light
Introduction Just a few lines to tell me how good I am, because I have been forgotten This is a simple sonnet The music is "The Haughs O' Cromdale" because it is almost a homonym for The Lights Of Cragdale.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred - EBA4 months ago in Poets
Buried
Feeling no self worth A shadow of myself What have I become A beacon of pain A stained canvas for your projections A dark reflection
By Atomic Historian4 months ago in Poets
Two Sisters
Introduction This is a sonnet about the Moon and her Sister enjoying their company in the night sky, inspired by this beautiful image I found in Debbie's Magical Brew on Facebook here:
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred - EBA4 months ago in Poets
Floating
Floating in a sea of disbelief Itching for relief Stripped of every belief I once held dear Bereaved of my self Shucking the sleeve of my former reality
By Atomic Historian4 months ago in Poets
Collapse Operator
Here are the words, nervous about meaning As little as the mute mote in the beam Here is the dust, beautifully gleaming
By D. J. Reddall4 months ago in Poets
Why My Quiet Matters
I didn’t learn silence in the soft way. It wasn’t handed to me like a folded blanket or a warm cup of tea. My quiet was shaped in the echo after doors slammed, in the spaces where people spoke over me, in the long pauses where I waited for someone to see I was hurting. For years, my quiet felt like a bruise I couldn’t point to. It wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t chosen. It was just where I went when the world didn’t leave room for me.
By LUNA EDITH4 months ago in Poets
From the Ashes. Content Warning.
I took on the role of protector When that was never my job I told myself I had to be there Like I was some sort of God —
By Emma Mark4 months ago in Poets