Refillable Glasses and Empty Spaces: Prose Poetry

On days, my heart is a wreckage of Hiroshima and my pulse, echoes the final goodbyes of torpedo bombers in the battle of Midway. I cannot speak because my mouth is clogged, as if someone has force-fed me shards of the broken wind chimes instead of Cheetos for dinner.

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Elegance and Jamais Vu: Prose Poetry

Oh, darling, I see you. I see you radiating like a kaleidoscope of aurora lights during the witch-hour, staring into the mirror for a little bit too long. A little bit too long. You gaze at your curves like they are swirls of sundae gourmet in your isolated hostel that rot during the quarantine. 

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SilverLeaf Poetry

a silver corner for words, verses and more.

David Redpath

We're all on a road to somewhere.


Once in a while you need to be able to let go of the world and sooth and relax. This is the place set up with the best options...


A surrealist spilling ink and dwindling between enigmas and epiphanies

artsy words

where dead metaphors meet dead feelings

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Unchartered paths, treading desires and my way out of the labyrinth

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Creation of Beauty through Words .

Discover WordPress

A daily selection of the best content published on WordPress, collected for you by humans who love to read.

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