Write poetry. Get feedback. Discover poets.

Going into my garden this time of year is like seeing an aging friend. We used to talk of the future, now he speaks of the end. Strong, open arms that once hugged me grow more frail each visit it seems. He is wearing yellows and browns, I remember him in summery greens. Our words that seem business as usual are actually a long goodbye. I head...

They gnaw at the edges of me, little sharp-toothed things with hollow eyes, crawling from the cracks in my skull to lap at the marrow of my thoughts. I used to fight them. I used to starve them. But hunger makes them cruel. So now I lay the table. Silver plates of regret, goblets brimming with old wounds, a banquet of memories too raw...

However it cooled between us, let it begin again. Show me the room in you that I was welcome in again. Your shoulder shrugs my hand off like a coat in April, so I pocket both hands, fold all my wanting in again. I ration tenderness now like sugar in a war year, afraid to offer what will not be taken in again. We used to talk until the candle...

An ocean's depth behind her eyes, yet soft, Devouring still, into the soul they pour. Each tender gaze doth raise my pulse aloft: Such beating as the ancient drums of war. Of mind divergent, wonders do abound, Life's codes and patterns as strange as nature knits, And on no spectrum is a label found, As she beyond all category sits. Does she see art...

I remember your perfume and how its fragrance and your essence made me giddy, like fine champagne from a crystal flute, sparkling, how they made me act the fool and not care as long as I could see you, touch you, inhale you, feel you open yourself to me, but time passed, the chill crept in, and you and my love are shells of themselves since you...

In shadows cast by stone and fear, I find myself, the path unclear. A dilemma looms, a heavy weight, Where do I turn? What lies in fate? Shall I trust the echoes of my mind, The wisdom gathered, the truths I find? Or delve within, where silence dwells, Into the chambers, where my spirit swells? With every breath, a whisper calls, Inward...

I keep a spine that bends toward fairness, and every time I straighten it, the doorway shrinks. "your disrespect borders apathy" dictations of trouble scribbled into me. In truth, I notice the weight placed on backs already tired, the hours that leak past daylight, the pay that never learns to grow. So I’m released again— another quiet box for...