art

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

Celebrating the Joy and Love of Christmas:
Celebrating the Joy and Love of Christmas Oh Christmas, how much joy you bring To every heart and soul, it seems A time for laughter, love, and cheer
By Paul Smith3 years ago in Poets
EVE
EVE Do the lights in my garden allure you? Do you want to take a peak? To what lies here after midnight, I may be a witch, christened through my widow's peak.
By JB3 years ago in Poets
The Mansion Witch
I owned half a mansion, I inherited it from my great grandfather. A witch owned the other half, she got it from her great grandmother. Our great grandparents were briefly married, got divorced, found other people, had children with the other people, but decided to each keep half of the mansion. It made taxes cheaper, even though neither person was a keeper.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Poets
O, Hail! Emperor!
It shines, it whips, and its waves, A blue fabric adjoins a gold eagle, The Fates pull a string their way, Though a pair of scissors can be lethal.
By Calvin EL3 years ago in Poets
Full Moon
Full Moon Once, in a dream that seemed so real, I found myself in a world that didn't feel Like the one I knew, with skies of blue
By Paul Smith3 years ago in Poets
Full Moon
Full Moon In my dream, I was flying high above A world of endless green and blue. The wind rushed through my hair, my heart ablaze
By Paul Smith3 years ago in Poets
Prologue
Born from a red rose From infancy to womanhood she rose Made by the courtesy of NightCafe Studio https://creator.nightcafe.studio/
By Thavien Yliaster3 years ago in Poets
Blue haiku
How be blue the Sea and Sky: Tiny particles, Interrupt sunlights shortwave, Rayleigh scatters blue.
By Wendy Kemlo3 years ago in Poets
Fright makes Right
Fright makes right You hear the echo of an owl. You hear the wolf begin to howl. You know there’s ghosts on the prowl.
By Kylecovey Smith3 years ago in Poets
I Had A Dream
Inside the darkness, Hides many, Mirrors. Late at night one can be found caressing the edges of reality. Walking demons and riches or maybe love.
By Shane Harrington 3 years ago in Poets
Thirty-Seventh find of the Meaning of life Scavenger Hunt
The proof is in the slurred speech explaining the fire breathing to the local villages. Crash landed in the sands. Waters sick of bourbon breath causing fish to swim funny.
By Willem Indigo3 years ago in Poets
Love at First Sight
I fell for you The way lovers tend to In the night like people do I looked at you And somehow suddenly knew That you were true
By Jessica3 years ago in Poets