A community for poets

Welcome note

Our community is for poets and their poetry. We provide a free forum and social network for our writers so they can enjoy sharing with others their passion for writing. If your interested in joining us feel free to register at http://pwa.mixxt.com/ and http://poetsweare.forumotion.com/ also our Facebook group https://www.facebook.com/groups/poetsweare/ .

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A writers mark and a poets flow

Personality 101 o_O*:

A poem I just posted onto Personality 101.

Originally posted on Personality 101:

Writing with ink so black

A quill, a feather of a Ravens wing

Scratching scribble for all to be seen 

Marks on your mind and black ink sucking words into a black hole 

Fingers turn black 

Paper no longer clean

Smear of a writers mark

Poets smarts

Talk of the unseen

A paper waiting to be written

waiting for the quill to make its mark

A black smear a writers mark

A flow, a rhythm, a rhyme

A poets mark, they make on your mind

Readers charm and a poets flow

Such reasoning behind there madness

of words coming together in rhythm and rhyme  

This is a writers mark and a poets flow

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Update Poets We Are network

Hello everyone, 

A new update for our Poets We Are community News Article #1 please check it out. Feel free to join us there too. We all love writing at Poets We Are. 

A Mothers Day Poem

If there was a love like no other.
There is my Mother,
she gave birth to me.
She took all my faults and all my ways;
told me your just this way,
I love you anyways.
To my Mother
I wish I could give you the world and so much more.
or set you in the apple of my eye,
giving you a crown and thrown.
But you’re more than just a Queen to me.
You’re my mother you gave birth to me.
I love you Mom!
I wish you a Happy Mothers Day.

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My roses have died

My moon is full
and has fallen out of its orbit.
Leaving my oceans lonely and tides too high.

My heart knows nothing but your tragic tears,
and with that.
My roses have died.
My violets are no longer blue.
I have lost when I’v lost you.

Deep and thought provoking

Once there was a deep and thought-provoking man;

keeping to himself,

his thought’s grew deeper and time grew thinner.

Ticking of the clock;

hand by hand,

hour by hour.

stretching like a rubber band.

Deeper, and deeper,

he keeps to himself.

Nothing but thought,

deeper and deeper.

Ticking of the clock;

hand, by hand,

hour, by hour.

passing time without a falter.

He lies in his thought-provoking stupor,

not knowing by the passing of the hour he has not come out into nature.

“No one cares”. He thought with such hatred for his people.

Not understanding he’s the one who stayed inside keeping from his true human nature.

Living in his deep and thought-provoking stupor.

This man has learned nothing.

 

Poets We Are [ALERT!] New forum up and running!

New forum up and running. Like I said I was working on a new forum for Poets We Are and I am done creating it. Come check us out at http://poetsweare.forumotion.com/ 

ImageJoin Us!

We have a new Poets We Are Facebook Group

I am proud to announce we have a new Poets We Are Facebook Group  up and running. We are looking for members if anyone wants to join go to Facebook and request to join. We will be happy to have you and see new faces. Post your poetry ,and anything to do with poetry, writing, short stories, and writing resources . Our group is for all poets and writers. 

We welcome you to Poets We Are!

 

New Poets We Are Forum coming soon! Image

Blues mountain melody [A LOVE SONG FOR THE MOUNTAINS]

Blues mountain melody,
blue birds singing love songs to me.
Blues mountain melody,
rivers singing their love songs so sweetly.
Blues mountain melody.
The blues no long affect me,
rolling over me like the rivers love song.

I choose to be proud of who I am

I’m pleased to be who I am,
living life at my own passe and by my own hand.
I’m pleased to be who I am,
living life to a slower passe and a positive grace.
Choosing to be who I am,
I choose to be proud of who I am.

Black widow

She’s agile and seeking comfort,
over and over.
Laying in her bedroom,
weaving and sewing,
seeking her lover.

Black widow
over and over,
weaving and waiting for her lover.

Black widow
see her crying,
weaving and waiting for her lover,
agile and seeking comfort.

Black widow
laying in her bed room,
weaving and waiting for her lover,
binding and binding so fast it’s winding;
seeking comfort and her agile lover.

Black widow
living in my window.

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