Like rivers of grace
Her gentle blue mantle flows
Hail! Mother of God!
How does it work?
More stories from Caroline Correia and writers in Poets and other communities.
Old, crusty snow hides Between ridges of shadow Where bold marmot sing.
By Caroline Correia3 years ago in Poets
You hold me where the water turns Black around the knees— not the crash, not the crest, but just underneath. Where every step is stolen ground,
By SUEDE the poet6 days ago in Poets
Plug me in. Give me some juice. I need the buzz Vibrating In the middle Of my spiralling thoughts. Plug a couple wires
By Silver Daux4 days ago in Poets
I’m sensitive to energies and sure, some would call me a freak, weirdo, I’ve even been called a pyscho but I’ve always known who I really was in the back of my mind.
By Latoya M.D4 days ago in Fiction
Comments