Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

democracy composting (1 Viewer)


Friends of WF
into the soil plunge these hands
into the broken-down twigs of a planned event
fingers push past shattered beetle husk
and twisted leg
of grasshopper lingered too long
nails collect the minute gasp of leaf
dreaming still of tree and wind –

will the wind ever let us go?

like a whisper it enters the shell
of our dream
calls to us across the long, long eon
of hope –

how many of us fear
after all this time
we have been wrong?

into the darkness
into the moist regret of a thing
not done, the understood stench
of it being too late
like a voice in the night
too late, too late
the sun is long gone –

did it settle for a thing
other than our intent?

cover me with straw
cover me with mulch
with broken fragment with silent song
into the decay of day
into the decline of time
into the final gasp a flurry of fake warmth
and then the stillness –
the rigor mortis of freedom
lost in reality
Last edited:


Staff member
A sad lament for dreams that don't fulfill the promise we all believed they would deliver. I think the disconcerting realisation described here is shared by many of us today. An insightful poem that made me think (and that's always good. ;) )