art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Darkness Falls
I hear a story, short but true. About a man, I thought I knew. It's the end of time, the end of the line. The end of all, that isn't mine. A tree grows tall, out in the wild. And I see mourners, all neatly filed. A grave for those, whom I despise. Buried deep, with their rotten lies. Was it me, who made them pay? Should I have given them, one more day? Nothing is simple, in this thing of ours. The lights go out, kill the stars. So here I am, alone again. It's not a matter of if, but a matter of when.
By Daniel Lee Peach3 years ago in Poets
Yemaya
I used to dream of my great escape. Wondering the day I'd walk out, the moment I’d stop responding to emotional abuse, the morning I'd stop answering the phone. Then, I woke up in a bushel of branches, creaking beneath my back; as if I had spent the whole night running.
By Amanda Moore-Karim3 years ago in Poets
Forever As Time Goes By
forever as time goes by.
By Rasma Raisters3 years ago in Poets
