Sonnet

Poemosaurus Rex
Perchance I am still the last dinosaur On the surface of your bedroom's ceiling Enveloped in mystery evermore Meandering with this ancient feeling.
By Patrick M. Ohana2 years ago in Poets
An Ode to a great leader
My commander lies on a bed of roses, His pulse denied, his body turned to ashes, An eulogy I have prepared, but engulfed by sadness,
By Ricky Lahiri2 years ago in Poets
Israel-Palestine War
They have bombs in Israel Which they throw from the skies Poor old Palestinians subhuman Let them all die. And they said the Palestinians are cruel
By Ricky Lahiri2 years ago in Poets
Dr. Dinosaur
I am a dusty fossil, dry and old My lectures include no bright, flashing slides When the words of the text are ductile gold
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Stegosaur Sonnet
Shall I compare thee to a stegosaur, pray? Thou art more spiky and more ungulate. Rough hands do take the darling spuds away,
By Raymond G. Taylor2 years ago in Poets
How Much Of Human Life Is Lost In Waiting? . Content Warning.
Introduction It was a line I heard and I thought how much of our time is lost in waiting. Actually, while I am waiting I find things to do but there are times when that is not an option.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Poets
Currents
I cannot help but feel us drift apart As if the waves are taking you to sea But currents keep me here eternally While waves are crashing coldly on my heart.
By Holly Nace2 years ago in Poets
The Shadows of Whispering Pines. Content Warning.
In the heart of the ancient forest, where the shadows whispered secrets and the pines murmured tales of old, lay the enigmatic Whispering Pines—a realm of mystery and darkness shrouded in the embrace of nature. Its tangled undergrowth and looming trees bore witness to centuries of forgotten whispers and unseen forces that danced among the shadows.
By Dannie2 years ago in Poets
Arrows
How is it that your arrows pierce the dove? When such a thing is deemed detestable. When stars are shining, you see flames above
By Holly Nace2 years ago in Poets
Amend
Have you become unraveled by a thing? So easily distressed by whetted words, When two can heal as though on feathered wings
By Holly Nace2 years ago in Poets
Multi-colored tapestry
People say that variety is the spice of life, and they would be right. Life has much to offer, in ranges and shades. The food we eat, clothes we wear, books we read and even the pets we keep all have types and variations. Each dish we partake of and little dog we welcome into our home has unique traits that separate it from everything else in the world.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin2 years ago in Poets
The End of War
I was walking by the river red Of tears and blood it was made The hauntings of ghosts’ past-dead long ago The imprint of the demagogue never fades.
By Ricky Lahiri2 years ago in Poets