Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Poets.

I am...a Metaphor.
rising metaphor existing now in real time floating away...
By Novel Allenabout 11 hours ago in Poets
What the Walls Heard After You Left
A house keeps every word you thought dissolved into air. The morning after, the doorknob flinched. at every draft— as if your hand might return
By abualyaanartabout 11 hours ago in Poets
teaching in 2026
students bickering, contested words that "have no meaning": six - seven.
By kpabout 13 hours ago in Poets
Play For Keeps
However, I could not get the indication 🚥 outta my mind… I was emblazoned within my own heart, from a love profound and beautiful…
By HandsomelouiiThePoet (Lonzo ward)about 13 hours ago in Poets
The Code of Poetry
Sometimes your words disappear, as if afraid to come out — like a child who doesn’t want to leave its mother’s embrace. I call you to speak, but the silence is stubborn,
By Magma Starabout 13 hours ago in Poets
I Carry The World
I Carry The World I walk beneath a sky that will not bend, With weight pressed hard against my fragile spine. The world sits heavy on my aching back,
By Marie381Uk about 14 hours ago in Poets
The Aesthetics of Silence
In a world where voice is often synonymous with strength, I have learned to appreciate silence. We live in an era of constant noise. From the moment we wake up, we are bombarded with notifications, news, opinions, and the endless chatter of social media. It seems that everyone has something to say, and everyone wants to say it louder than the person next to them.
By Magma Starabout 14 hours ago in Poets
The Earth Changes Like Me
My path is a path only I could carry. I was born abandoned. But I received a love that was bigger than any beginning. My childhood was not a wound —
By Magma Starabout 14 hours ago in Poets
Morning Coffee
I love the feel of warm coffee on my lips Like warm kisses first thing in the morning It reminds me of waking up with you
By Archery Owl about 14 hours ago in Poets
I LEARNED TO SUFFER ALONE
I learned to suffer alone. Not out of pride. Not out of strength. But out of habit. Like an animal that retreats into silence to lick its wounds alone, far from view. Instinctively. Without witnesses.
By Magma Starabout 14 hours ago in Poets
A Hungry Butterfly
Butterfly sucking From a yellow daffodil M0narch looks content
By Margaret Minnicksabout 15 hours ago in Poets
One Hundred and Nineteen Seconds
The bar is too quiet for a Tuesday. The wood of the table is scarred, a map of lives passed through here, leaving rings of moisture and half-forgotten ghost stories.
By Diane Fosterabout 16 hours ago in Poets