This is just a poem that I finally finished an extension of. The beginning, originally, "first there was John, then there was me." has many times helped to jog my memory during times when I've had moments of dèja vu of a long ago life I've lived And found myself reliving. Tonight this full version of it came to me.

This short story follows Chloe, a young woman stepping into her first day at a powerful investment firm, where the atmosphere is sleek, intimidating, and buzzing with ambition. What starts as standard first-day nerves quickly shifts when she catches the attention of Kaelum Vance — a commanding, magnetic executive whose presence alters the entire direction of her day. Their chemistry escalates fast, pulling Chloe into an intense, head-spinning encounter in his 40th-floor office. The story explores themes of desire, authority, risk, and the irresistible pull between two people drawn together by sheer, overwhelming attraction. It’s fast-paced, high-tension, and drenched in that dangerous, can’t-look-away kind of energy that makes forbidden moments impossible to forget.

After twenty years of homesteading, homeschooling, and running a home business on 10 acres in the Ozarks with my husband and six children, life had a monumental shift. Not only did most of the children move out, but my youngest got diagnosed with autism, and my husband and I are now divorcing. What lies ahead?

What if the foods you eat are healing or harming you based on your blood type? Tap in and see why millions swear this is the real cure your doctor never mentioned.

Mia finds a mysterious notebook with a message that inspires her to slow down and listen to her own heart. This leads her to reconnect with Noah, someone she once cared deeply for, and together they begin rediscovering their long-paused connection.

I have this type of anxiety with being alone. I don't like empty spaces, and I hate being away from people. this is something I wrote when I was having a panic attack. I was alone on my campus.

If Jesus could be holy then so can I… We learn from His example and as we spend time in His presence, He empowers and transforms us to conformity with His nature thus preparing us to see Him face to face and live…

https://ko-fi.com/palmettolyfenewsgroup The art of doing is work born in silence, A discipline so sharp it cuts through doubt.

https://ko-fi.com/palmettolyfenewsgroup The art of doing is motion without noise, A grind so quiet it terrifies the loud.

Episode One: The Birth of the Damned Cormac Blackfeather inherits the Carnival from his mother, the infamous Mother Carnage, whose final ritual promised eternal life and fortune for the midway. Before the horrified guests, lightning strikes her form—she vanishes into smoke, leaving only silence. The performers scatter, abandoning the cursed circus. Desperate to rebuild, Blackfeather wanders into desolation, chasing whispers of new talent. There he finds the Twins of Carnage—Grin and Grimace, clowns whose laughter masks something darker. Their casting ceremony binds them to the midway, sealing their fate. Together, they set out toward the next town, the Carnival’s hunger pulling them onward.

In this next poem, positive attitudes and emotions will be showcased towards a pet cat. All cats are wonderful, but when one has a pet cat, it's a huge responsibility and yet, a very nice one. Pay attention to the imagery that is used as well as the "show, don't tell". The pet cat is something rather important here, and it is not just seen as a simple animal. Rather than simply stating how beautiful the cat is, the poet does something else, even more than simply stating the obvious. Why is that? There is also a case of repetition in the poem. Why do you think the poet used repetition? Above all, why do you think the poet used the term "beauty" over and over again and is it related to appearances only or is there something more powerful than that. You are welcome to analyze the poem as much as you like. Either way, hope you enjoy.

I beg your pardon. You came to me, darling. You've made a mountain out of a mole hill. You've questioned the days' somber. And to think, you've looked at me to undress days in and days out, and STILL, I am just another woman in your dainty curtain call of a bed.

What to do, when I start to miss you. A little harder each day, I begin to think you want me less. Though, If I was your favorite drug or rhythm, what would you cope with less?

My first ever written poem that explores love, hope , sadness and joy for tomorrow The feeling of a long tiring day captured into words

I always thought growing up meant finally knowing who I am and why I’m here, but the older I get, the more I question everything, my beliefs, my choices, and whether I’m truly myself or just a reflection of the world that shaped me.

This story is about how i got into basketball and the man who inspired me to keep playing and sadly passed awy

Five Years After I've Passed (This is a fictional story I created about what might happen if I were to pass away.) I've written two POVs; this one is the longer version.

Hi Im just writing about thing black teens go through at a young age that shape them to the men's they become.

This is just an experimental type of poem I wrote. I like to mostly write horror and some dark poetry, because I'm just fucked up like that.

Chapter 15: Home is Where the Bark Is Rose Bud reflects on her many adventures and realizes that the best part of life is being surrounded by her loving family and friends. She knows that home is truly where the bark—and the heart—is. 6