Poetess Stories

MELANCHOLY | MAY GARNER | AVAILABLE ON AMAZON!    This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly you begin to forget I ever existed. All of me - the parts of flesh you never quite learned to love slips quietly down the drain. I am waiting for the day your fingers unscrew the pipes, dig through the mess, scrape your heart against rust, just to find me again, so we can do it all over. Here, in these pages, I find myself. In ink pressed against my flesh, I whisper the sadness, the heartache, the decay meant for all the unspoken.    A Poetry Collection by May Garner. Original poems regarding real life experiences. Cover created on Canva. 2026. Melancholy copyright © May Garner. 2026. All Rights Reserved.

Some stories don't end - they linger, like April rain on quiet days. 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 is a collection of moments that exist in the in-between - where beginnings feel uncertain, endings arrive softly, and emotions refuse to fade completely. Each poem captures fragments of connection, loss, growth, and quiet realization, unfolding like petals that never fully close. This is not a book of perfect endings. It is a book of almosts, echoes, and afterglow - of feelings that stay long after they should have left. Step gently into 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚, where every page holds a piece of something once felt, and never entirely forgotten.

What happens when the world goes quiet, but your mind doesn't? 𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 isn't a story. It's a series of moments, the kind you don't talk about in daylight. The kind that sit with you when the room is dark, when the clock is too loud, when sleep refuses to be kind. These poems don't ask to be understood. They ask to be felt. From fragile beauty hidden in unexpected places, to silent battles no one sees, to thoughts that linger somewhere between breaking and becoming, this collection moves like the night itself-soft, restless, and a little unforgiving. Some poems will feel like comfort. Some will feel like confrontation. And some will feel like they were written from a place you've been trying to avoid. Read it slowly. Or don't. The night doesn't rush. And neither do the truths waiting inside it.

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝙼𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.

#NaPoWriMo Month❤️ A Poetry Collection..

A poetic collection where nature, elements, and emotions find their own voice. Each diary unveils a soul, reminding us that everything around us lives, feels, and speaks - if only we listen. Penned by Piku GYUN 💚🌿 Note 👉 Images Credit: Gemini Ai, Canva & Pinterest 🎗️HIGHEST RANKING 🎖️#1 bestseller (26th November 2025) 🎖️#1 poetess (29th November 2025) 🎖️#1 bookofpoems (12th November 2025) 🥈#2 diaries (25th April 2026) 🥈#2 speak (12th November 2025) 🥉#3 bestbookever (22nd November 2025)

poetry for the hearts tarnished by love or the sudden death of it. for the hearts that find a soft lullaby in the pages when raw hope is not enough to put the worries to sleep. for the hearts that bleed ink to paint the chalky roses of life red with words--you'll find my own ink here. and i hope you find a harlequin garden in my poetry. sweet lavender. daybreak lilies. sun-kissed dahlias. a poem for every emotion ripping at your soul, begging to be unleashed on paper. this collection has several themes and ideas--find something you like. let's get lost in the tall fields of dawn's first breath and dandelion song, tucking flowers in the forests of our hair. let's get lost in the words and not in the world. for a moment, let your tarnished heart out of its cage, and hold it to your sleeve. wear it proudly as you read. just for a moment. to feel something and let it be shown. there is nothing shameful in having a heart that has dented-in chambers and rust. it has seen the salt cries of the ocean, the metronome kisses of summer rain, the moonlight tears that have dried into scars on cheeks. it's been corroded by the waters, tarnished. it is not afraid. well that was some pretentious shit. i hope you enjoy this collection. love ya <3 more of my works: "poems for you. always for you." is one of my older poetry collections that is slightly cringe but feel free to check it out. "let me shape you into words" is where you can make a poem request, and i'll write something up! this lovely cover was created by: @lifebytheseashore (go follow her!! she makes awesome covers, writes stunning poetry, and more) #1 in "originalpoetry" Aug. 2, 2021 #1 in "teenpoetry" Aug. 19, 2021 #1 in "poetess" Aug. 22, 2021 #1 in "mypoetry" Aug. 22, 2021

A COLLECTION OF POEMS. Contains all the feelings buried deep in my heart and soul. Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity. ~William Wordsworth Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words. ~Edgar Allan Poe 💛Cover made by me💛

What is it like to be DIFFERENT? Is it a blessing, or a curse? Does it bring joy, or sorrow? Is it amazing, or does it make you remember the times when you were insecure about your own skin? Is it something to be disregarded, or is it your sirenic muse? Explore the differences in people's body, mind and soul.

A poem

Poetical Stories. Poetical Sketches... Stories. Insight. Casual. Bliss. Feels. Moods. Vibes. Weekend Inspirations... In one word: Poetry

an idea, just a thought. is "unseenity" a word? IT IS NOW ok, this is my first English poetry book. enjoy! 0206201637 Copyright © chimsflower 2020

Poetry by some girl and her broken heart.

"for the fear of being unheard, i don't cry, i bleed on paper." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A bunch of long poems from the heart of an anxious, sleep deprived and amatuer sixteen year old. Hope u like them :)

The journey of a hindi poetess

Hello to the beautiful soul peering at this today! I am Disha Saraf and I am 14! This is my very own compilation of poetry. Just to soothen your soul and embrace your heart. Beware, my reveries might strangle your ideas of death as well. Good day morrows! disha.saraf2004@gmail.com

A lonely wanderer with a pen in hand and a piece of paper.

Poems that are basically emotional, dark and sad

A poem

My dream now is much like your abandoned bloodline. She died today, died before my eyes, crushed & crumbled into monolouges---i call them her last words. My dream, she is like my Ammi's heart, and not like my Baba's cracked ceiling. I didn't weep, for a moment I couldn't feel her loyalty, all of a sudden, she left as if she never belonged, but, but she left me saying that--- i die when fools like you wake up to sanity. I was fourteen when i first met my dream on a winding way to obscurity, she was a abnodoned ocean of love, who averaged her way to free me off shackles--- shackles made out of the scraps of their tamed expectations. She walked me through thistles, held me in darkness, loved me like freedom and left me like stranger. I wish I could save her who once saved me, but, now I wish I had, She walked me on the road that then were my nerves, and the air that blew through them was my blood that carried life; She was a local metro window through which I would look at sunrise and sunsets, She was a habit I tamed to survive; but she died, so I died too. Thursday evening, we were walking hand in hand when Baba caught us for the first time, he didn't speak, but left me remembering my ' dignity ' I was always taught this art of sacrifice, Not only me, but all the men are taught this--- this art of sacrificing her, your dreams, sacrificing to walk in accord with your dignity, sacrificing to preserve your bloodline, sacrificing to walk with heads up--- because she was shame, who would bring forsighted regret. So, like all other men, i left her to death after knowing my ' dignity ' because small men dream small--- Baba taught me, i was small then. I wish I hadn't listened to Baba. I wish I had saved her. My dream died before my eyes, but I was too coward to save her.