The Poet's Sanctuary

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Updated: May 12, 2026 at 5:47 AM

The Poet's Sanctuary

✍️ Send us poems through @Poetry_submit_bot, and we'd publish them in the @PoetSanctuary channel. 📢 Chat with the authors, participants and moderators of our channel at https://t.me/+QuKPRvJqOmcbaA8E

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#456

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#45

Category Ranking

#23

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Total: 30.9K

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Latest Posts

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

Stage of life.

I paint my lips crimson—
a smile stitched with invisible thread,
while the scar beneath my ribs hums
a melody only I can hear.

The stage is set with halogen lights,
so bright they bleach the shadows
where my grief curls like a sleeping child,
small, forgotten, but still breathing.

I pirouette in borrowed grace,
each step a sonnet, each glance a verse—
the audience sighs, mistaking
the tremor in my hands for passion,
not the aftershock of a wound
I refuse to name.

Oh, the art of vanishing in plain sight--
how the body becomes both
the blade and the sheath.

At curtain call, they throw roses,
their petals soft as apologies
I’ll never receive.

I bow low, lower,
until my spine becomes a question mark—
Is this enough? Will this ever be enough?

#poetry #nyxthinks

13,000

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

And now our world drowns in anticipating red,

Red flowers, red hearts, red smiles...

Whilst those children drown in the red flowing from their veins,

Red tears, red flesh, red stained wails, for every second of the day,

And I cannot, in good conscience, sympathize with a world that allows that red.

I cannot celebrate your love when we cannot celebrate their life.

Not #random
#SammyScribble

10,000

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

Beware the eloquent—
whose lips are a stream of glazed honey,
whose mind has long weighed you unworthy.

Beware the smiles,
and the eyes trained for society—
appealing to all,
allegiant to none.

A silent spectator.

When they speak a word,
nations cheer—
the same nations
the eloquent secretly abhors.

Heed where you stand.
The firm, unyielding ground of their affection
could well be
a dissecting table
for their insatiable curiosities.

11,500

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

I stepped onto my own back,
believing it to be the terrain
of gloomy worlds I admire.
I am not crazy—
but I live in an overly sane world,
where prophecy is mistaken
for ignorance.

11,000

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

I am torn between this apprehension for every kind of love I once looked for

and my bravery for every scar I reaped at the cost of my faith.

Though I can never grow out of love, yet, it's the last thing I expect now, for every time it had been the first thing I willingly gave.

#toxic
#words

8,720

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

She made a poet out of me.

Sure,
I spoke pretty words before
but they were light,
empty,
just echoes of things I’d heard.

Borrowed lines
from books and poems,
gathered phrases
with no weight of my own.

They sounded nice,
but they didn’t mean.
They didn’t ache.
They didn’t linger.

Then she came along.
And without even trying,
she shifted something in me.

She showed me
what it means
to shape a feeling
into a sentence.

How to hold a moment
between syllables,
how to let silence speak
between the lines.

Now,
when the words come,
they come slower,
deeper,
as if they know
they have someone to answer to.

Now they carry something real.
A little more truth.
A little more her.
A little more of the person
I am when I think of her.

She made a poet out of me
not by asking,
not by trying,
but simply
by being
someone worth writing for.

9,580

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

They ask me
why I write like this
as if I’ve swallowed
something I’ll never digest.

I tell them:
I do not craft poems.
I survive them.

Each verse is a wound
that decided to speak.
Each stanza
a bandage pretending to be art.

Don’t look for beauty here.
Look for the places
I buried myself
so no one else would have to.

9,670

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

Every time
I inadvertently draw people in
through miscalculated words,
I feel burdened—
like taking on weight
I never meant to bear.

Sustaining a connection
feels like drafting weight
on a soul resisting entropy.

9,290

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

“The Smallest Something”

Some nights, I look up—
and the sky reminds me
how small I really am.

A single human
on a single rock
spinning around a star
that’s one among sextillion—
in a galaxy that’s one
among two trillion more.
We’re not even a footnote
in the universe’s autobiography.

And yet…
here I am—
losing sleep over a memory,
over a goodbye that still echoes,
over a silence that shouldn’t hurt,
but does.

What a strange paradox—
to be so insignificant
and still feel everything
so deeply.

But maybe
that’s the magic of being human.
We don’t need to be big
to hold something infinite inside.

We ache,
we dream,
we fall in love with moments
that the universe
will never even notice.

And still,
we write.
We write about stars
that may have died long ago,
and people
who may never return.

Maybe our pain isn’t pointless.
Maybe our joy isn’t small.
Maybe,
in a universe that runs on physics,
we are the accident of feeling—
and that’s not weakness.
That’s wonder.

So no,
I may not be much
in the grand scheme of galaxies.
But I am something.
The smallest something
that dares to love
in a world that forgets to feel.

And that—
in all its softness—
is kind of beautiful...

9,160

The Poet's Sanctuary

May 11, 2026, 07:34 PM

You won’t feel like this
forever.
Even the longest winters
forget
how to stay.

#ShortScribbles

8,430

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