Citrus light flickers
sharp whispers brush the cool night
bitter blooms in breeze.
How does it work?
More stories from Test and writers in Poets and other communities.
The first winter snow arrives at 9.47 and the world seems to pause as if holding its breath. The slow drifting flakes open a doorway in memory and I return to the journals that waited in my old suitcase. Seven years fall away and I meet the voice I once carried. That voice wrote of promises and direction with a trembling certainty that surprised me even now.
By Test5 months ago in Poets
—and you call me embarrassing. your words sting, dripping with venom, sending my body into panic. I cry, half anger / half devastation.
By katherine j zumpano7 days ago in Poets
The mountains were blue, wrapped in a blanket of cold mist, the air tasting of pine and ancient secrets. In the heart of the Pacific Northwest,
By Hazrat Umer2 days ago in Poets
I was not going to write about this because it is one of those subjects I find too painful to talk about. However, I've decided to take the courage to talk about it, because I feel my feelings on the topic need to be expressed.
By Carol Ann Townend3 days ago in Humans
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