The breast of Life Force Brings forth youthful animation; A seedling grows into being, Thereby passing Yahweh's tribulation

Richard McClellan was born in Yellville, Arkansas (USA). He served in the U.S. Army, and has traveled the world including Japan, Korea, Portugal, Italy, Canada, and most of the lower 48 United States and Alaska. His favorite place that he has visited is the Azores Islands in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. Richard has been writing poetry for 20 years.

Lord am I worthy I asked for forgiveness I have changed my ways I have changed my hate to love Lord am I worthy My head filled with doubt My mind plays tricks Two voices going against each other Lord am I really worthy Yet you still choose me Yet you still died for m

You think you know her because you took off her dress? You think you know her enough to not have to ask? You don't know her. You may know how it feels to lie by her side, but you know nothing about her, about how every time you look into her eyes. they are hungry for love, begging to be known, but you don't love her, and you don't know.

My name is Esther Sayala, and I am an emerging poet, a proud woman of color who was born and raised in South Africa. Growing up here has shaped both my perspective and my writing. Studying poetry throughout my school years inspired me to find my own voice, showing me that words have the power to preserve history, express emotion, and spark meaningful conversations.

Like enjoying a book after months of reading burnout, celebrating milestones with people I hold dear, healing from wounds that I never speak about, and breathing in the crisp air of a new year.

The damages within my foundation be refined through His restoration; I close my mind to thoughts of unbelief

Success is not believing the voice that said you were better off gone. It is surviving the night

Jane Doe no one has claimed me, yet roots attach me to a family name, while strings tethering me to a title of "ward of the state". Of...

It doesn’t yell. It waits. Buried beneath politeness, behind the verses I quote but haven’t fully lived. It simmers, deep in the places I don’t let anyone touch not even me. Wounds I’ve covered with scriptures instead of surrender. Pain I’ve stuffed down in the name of "being strong." They see peace on my face. But inside, I am pacing. Shouting. Breaking. I carry a war I never asked to fight, and some days I think I’m losing. God, where are You in this fire? Because I don’t w

I long to see you grow into a man, not restricted by the pain of your father's name. Not misconstrued by the color of your skin having to...

Lord, I can't live without you... When I breath in, the air that infiltrates my lungs is not enough to sustain me, the sun that shines...

Littered with the regret that I could become reduced to a disposable stain on society's skirt. kicked aside with the stench which alludes...

Who am I without the fantasy that I could make you love me the way I remember in every fairytale, molded my mind to project

with patterns of unflattering, reflections of myself- lessly wanting to change, but flawed within the very fabric of my existence. Frayed

Like a seed, despite being surrounded by the 'concrete' of my circumstance, I somehow held the promise of growth and beauty deep, perhaps in

We Choose Life Murdered Child Words spoken formed life into the womb. blood stains ooze from the vessels meant to produce Life,...

Just listen to the thunder's praises through the tempo-ed sound of the rain echoing across every surface it touches to wash away any...