art

Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.

Echoes of Myself
under bed, scary no, with voices in my head terrorising me * Thanks for reading! Author's Notes: For the Haunted Echoes challenge. As ever, I took a very personal approach. Nothing scarier, in reality, than my own head.
By Paul Stewart5 months ago in Poets
Timshel
You may You may not Climb or fall Your choices creating a Ladder Of life You may climb Or not. Your choice, only Your own.
By Roderick Makim5 months ago in Poets
In a retrograde hall
It was a terrible evening, subdued by laughter, Sevenfold in alcoholic dreams, Dross in his eyes Stopped by mouldy snow,
By Oleksandr Koryahin5 months ago in Poets
The DROP
The world leans forward, slow and inevitable— As if some unseen hand runs a thumb along the horizon, smearing golden residue into gray,
By Stefano D'angello5 months ago in Poets
The Mask of Goodness
We post our mercy, polished bright, Animals saved in fleeting light. Likes like applause, gentle and small, Yet hungry children wander, unseen by all.
By Life Hopes5 months ago in Poets
The Moment
You looked at me not just at me but into that soft ache I had carried quietly for years. Like you were reading a sentence
By Printique Studios5 months ago in Poets
Whispers Between Dawn and Dust
Sometimes life teaches us gently and not loudly. I wrote this poem on a quiet morning when the world hung between what had been done and what was only unfolding. It's about clinging to hope, letting go of the baggage we no longer bear, and learning to honour the frail beauty of now. And in that quiet space of calm, we discover that the small lessons are the deepest.
By Leyvel Writes5 months ago in Poets
Rope Swings into Fall Time
hopes fall from 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔰, trust rope swing holds me, until knot large pile of leaves caught
By Rowan Finley 5 months ago in Poets
We the People. Content Warning.
We had a voice, and we try to speak, Our message, once strong, now grows weak. They claim to listen, yet we go unheard, We're losing the plot with every word.
By kylie Arneson5 months ago in Poets
Who's Stalking Who?
***Author's note: I was inspired by this song and the TV show You while writing this poem.*** Oh hello you, I have found you once again.
By Chloe Rose Violet 🌹5 months ago in Poets
The Nine Gifts of the Holy Spirit . Top Story - September 2025.
A Word of Wisdom flies in a straight line for a target A Word of Knowledge is as a nugget of treasure Faith rises where fear had already fallen a long time ago
By Rowan Finley 5 months ago in Poets
The game of Cold goodbyes
With every man she slept with, She lived a little bit, Before she died a little more. Sex was a cage, but also a relief From the chronic loneliness she felt.
By Iulia Popa5 months ago in Poets