The distant mountain
Are reflected in the eye
Of the dragonfly
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Kristina Eileen and writers in Poets and other communities.
A mothers heart is never her own Bits and pieces become one From her daughters and from her sons A mothers heart will never close
By Kristina Eileen4 years ago in Poets
What’s wrong with a song or poem with rhyme? I find my mind pondering, wandering, wondering much of the time. Unbelievably, inconceivably… to some, rhyme is worse than slime or grime!
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶3 days ago in Poets
It never denied me—until it did. 🤖📄✍️❌⚖️ It never denied me. At all. My daily schedule, or my tasks. Swept the floor. Just a tap.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin4 days ago in Poets
“During the Metal Age, humans took photographs of everything beautiful, which was everything, yet machines did not even wear shoes. The Fauxna thought of a better way. They colored all of the light rose, for a corrupted source cannot be verified.” - Origin Parable, 011
By Nicky Frankly6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.