Gratitude

Three Days
Yesterday, suffering Wailing, nails, tears, spears piercing Tomorrow, Son rise + + + “But the angel answered and said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.”
By Colleen Walters2 years ago in Poets
The all heart derelict
He is a beggar, Every day, sitting in the same place, Many buses and vans pass him, And the people as well, Specially the children,
By Esala Gunathilake2 years ago in Poets
The power of nature
I believe I have discovered serenity. Why am I here? Why have I arrived here? Why was I thinking so much?
By 𝘎𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘗𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦2 years ago in Poets
Release
You ever get to that stage in life; Where everything gets really confusing Right before everything becomes clear? It could be as a culmination of prior decisions you’ve been making in your life,
By Nomfundo Gumede2 years ago in Poets
[ ? ]
I'm [ ? ] years of age now. Is it the right time to [ ? ] , reflect and evaluate? If I could use one word to describe me right here and now , it would be : [ ? ]
By Pauline Fountain2 years ago in Poets
Mystique
His Mystique and Her Physique Piqued His interest and Parted Her heart as they Flowed and Rowed Down rivers
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Poets
beginner's love
an love him for thousands reasons but still dont know why i love him. His voice stuck in my ears make me fall in love with him every day every night.
By AINA 2 years ago in Poets
" May I Mayo Wish". Content Warning.
In the shadows of a broken home, Where darkness reigned and sorrow roamed, I found solace in a simple delight, A mayo sandwich, my beacon bright.
By Exclusively Speaking with Love'Nia Renee 2 years ago in Poets
Work Time
It’s all becoming clearer It’s all smoke and mirrors As everything draws nearer We pretend to do the right thing But life’s queerer than it seems
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Wilderness
They think I’m always on the hunt Always on the prowl But usually I’m just sitting here Thinking Pondering in this wilderness I call my brain
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
HOURGLASS
All of our days are numbered- But if you knew what that number was Would you live any different? Would I? I'm sure the answer from most would be yes
By Josh Morgan2 years ago in Poets
spring onions not sultanas
A big bowl of something creamy and gloopy bubbles away on the stove. Dad always makes porridge in the early mornings before school while
By Joe O’Connor2 years ago in Poets