Micropoetry Stories

🖤 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 by itsjustAmrit Think of it like pages torn from different days but from the same life. ❝ 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ❞ Broken Pages is a collection carved from silence- 𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥. These aren't love poems. They're post-mortems. Grief sleeps between the lines. Heartbreak drips from metaphors. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 - "You're not alone in the dark." If you've ever smiled while shattering... If your silence ever screamed... 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. In the ash. In the aftermath. In the poetry only pain can write.

A collection of short poems and fragments of poems, written when I was suffering with writers block

Things that almost were: fleeting moments, almost-possibilities, suspended between hope and reality, like whispers of what could have been but never quite touched.

Beautiful words infused with love that could touch hearts. A heartfelt collection of short and sweet poems designed to touch your soul and celebrate the strength, resilience, and beauty of the heart. Crafted with love and simplicity, these words are perfect for those who find inspiration in the power of emotions. I hope these poems bring a smile to your face, inspire your heart, and stir your emotions. Crafted with love and care, they celebrate the beauty of life, love, and resilience. If they touch you in any way, Vote Comment And share with your loved ones Thank you 😊

"writing the left" is 2022 collection of micropoetry by h.h. | @bull.sees.red

Consists of a type of short poem of 3 lines with generally the middle line being the longest. The haikus written cover the various aspects of life and the reader gets different flavours. (This completed book contains the first 100 haikus of the poet) [Highest ranking: #54 in Haiku on 17th Oct 2018]

"The truth is mine, but I bear none to speak, To keep my mouth in shambles, my sanity to keep. Because they started rambling through the walls, they speak; They want to rot the house, to make my body meek. Hinges rust, the moths crawl through my skin, The floorboards choke on everything I've been. Father is absent, but he is quick to swear; Mother is present, but it is nothing there. Their words cut me open-they carve me precise, Alcohol's the sinner; sinning is the vice. The mold in the corners-it has learned my name, It breathes when I breathe, it thinks I'm the same. The mold takes my breath; the walls start to bend, While the judge, my Father, tells me to repent."

I offered my hand to you so we could dance the night so gracefully, and the moon pretended she didn't notice how we looked at each other.

A Poem by O.K. Thieves

A few dozen very short poems.

things that are too long to not post at all but too short to publish as parts in a collection of other short stories. most will be a few paragraphs at most, most will be windows into a character's mindset. content warnings will be before chapters where they are needed, so read what you like and avoid what you don't.

POETRY and MORE. httpeach © 2017

A poetry collection of Weaving rhymes from thoughts and emotions that sure will go deep down the Reader's mind and sink into their heart. Note - the pictures used in these poems are taken from Pinterest and some are clicked by me.

before you say something mean think first before you do because what you say can cut people so deep that they can be ripped apart in two and nobody wants to be sliced in half i'd rather be whole myself, wouldn't you? so drop the fuckin' knife...

A collection of over 100 micropoems.