Prose
A Whisper Beyond the Fog
The dawn broke with a ghostly stillness. The door creaked open, and an ethereal fog seeped into the room, swirling like restless spirits seeking a purpose. It carried with it a whisper, faint yet persistent, urging me to take a step forward.
By Mirhadi Tahsinabout a year ago in Poets
Let There Be Light. Top Story - January 2025.
God said let there be light, and then there was you. Standing in the dark corner of a room that I tried so desperately to ignore but could not seem to live without. You were the spark that lit a flame in me to reveal the truth.
By H. J. Levonabout a year ago in Poets
Flying
The ground above me Riding on the sky below At peace With nowhere else to go Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
The Love Letter That Ended It All
Your beauty, my love, taught me how to choose beauty, how to swim in a vast sea, and how to sneak into the homes of doves. But I do not blame my hair for the kohl in your eyes or the slenderness of your waist. Instead, I am content with your beauty, my silence, and my torment. There’s no need for you to be angry with me for not saying enough poetry about your beauty.
By Iron-Pen☑️ about a year ago in Poets
"HUGS NO HATE". Content Warning.
This is to inform humanity that I do not write 'just about myself'. I use I because I wrote it. My writings, songs, art, & music are all about you, everyone, they, theirs, them, them, her, him, he, & me. I have authored many stories since I began publishing again in 2023. I chose a lot of my teenage poems to publish in the beggining. I have spontaneously authored other stories, poems, song lyrics, videos, & my own short piano tunes. The stories, & 'all that jazz,' are written about humanity. I know there are a few people who think It's all about me, but 'no way' it's all about. We all live, love, hate, sleep, eat, & go about our chores, our work, our studies everyday on life's highway.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
Trilobite
*This poem is another piece I wrote while in college. It has undergone a few edits.* They found it in the attic, shoved in the corner of a half-empty cardboard box. Shaped like a flattened egg, like a tailless horseshoe crab, graphite gray, a series of carpet-creases slinking down its back. “This used to be alive,” her father said, tossing it up, from palm to palm. Bury it then, she thought, her eyes leaping from the fossil to the insulation-wound still waiting for drywall-suture to the fossil again. “Millions of years ago. Little terror of the sea floor,” he continued, smiling at it, then at her. “Here.” He placed it in her hands, cradled, the weight scratching with insect-prickles up her arms, burrowing behind her eyes to pupate. The nightmares: it molted like a cicada, crawling on centipede legs, pincers at her ankles. She cocooned it in mud only to wake up to it by her bed, clumps of clay crusted into eyespots. “Take it back,” she cried to her father. He laughed, ruffled her hair and sat it atop his desk, turning it so she could feel its stare.
By Hannah E. Aaronabout a year ago in Poets
