Prose

Write What Disturbs You. AI-Generated.
Introduction Writing is an act of courage. It's easy to write about the beautiful and the simple, but the real power lies in exploring what disturbs you. Those uncomfortable truths, hidden fears, and unresolved emotions are the threads of authenticity that make your writing come alive.
By Usama Shahidabout a year ago in Poets
A Quietude That Whispers. Runner-Up in Frosted Verse Challenge.
I wake to the calm of a silver-lit dawn A quietude that whispers, “The past is gone” The trees now glimmer In the first light of morn
By Rudolph Lingensabout a year ago in Poets
Aide Memoire
The dark and deepened hues of the second solstice signal that It's time. A year since, and one could argue that the decision to go now is a late one.
By kpabout a year ago in Poets
A Song of Winter
The song of the Sparrow and the Titmouse harken from above in barren branches. A heralding of what’s in store upon first foot prints outside the door.
By Aissa Martellabout a year ago in Poets
Verses in the FROST
Dear frost, you arrive in the quiet of night, Draping the world in your shimmering white. But it’s not just the cold that you bring to the air, It’s a whisper of beauty, fragile and rare.
By Melanieabout a year ago in Poets
Jack's Happy Cookies
Let me tell you a tale of an evening not that long ago When Jack Frost came over for a winter’s jaunt To party with me under the Beaver moon’s glow
By Mother Combsabout a year ago in Poets
Hoar Frost and Husky
Author Note: One of winter's beauties is the intricate crystals--called hoarfrost--that form on branches, wires, poles, and other things. Hoarfrost could be called a wintertime cousin to summer's dew. It forms when water vapor in the air contacts solid surfaces that are already below freezing point. Immediately on contact, ice crystals form, and the ice continues to grow as more water vapor is frozen. The Arctic frequently has perfect conditions.
By Andrea Corwin about a year ago in Poets
Frost's Grasp
Dear, whomever this letter reaches, In the desperation, last ditched notion of legacy, I wrote it. I want to remember, to hold onto the feeling of the quiet cold of the world awakening and the bite across my bare pale flesh as the sun shines, though its power is bereft and left us. I sit and ponder existence, purchase and agency as my skin becomes taut and blemished by the pierce of the frozen, meeting the warmth that still pumps through my body. The frost has taken its grip at Jack Frost’s behest. When you channel power toward a cause—one you have no reason to belong to—do you truly have agency? Especially when Jack’s bitter hand rests on your shoulder, promising a better future than the past you’ve endured.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
My first mistake became my last mistake, which was loving you
Loving you was my first mistake, and it became my last mistake. What did you think? That no one would love me except you?
By Ignited Mindsabout a year ago in Poets
Time Will Pass Anyways
Introduction Let's be honest: time is a force we can't control. Whether we act on our dreams or sit idly, the hours, days, and years will keep slipping by. The phrase "time will pass anyways" is both a gentle reminder and a powerful motivator. It challenges us to stop procrastinating and start living intentionally because every moment that passes is one we'll never get back.
By Muhammad Nadeemabout a year ago in Poets
The Abyss Below
The abyss below is nothing but an illusion created to show you into believing. Believing that nothing rests beyond. Believing into thinking that all we see
By Rachael Anraabout a year ago in Poets
The Whippoorwill
“The time is nine to nil,” Sings the whippoorwill Who sits at Doomsday’s door.
By Jake Laneabout a year ago in Poets