Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Lawful creative, I’ll take it, I’ll make it my own! What’s there to write, if All words are sacred, and music is danced to alone?
By Tanya3 years ago in Poets
Into the open spaces, Between us, Stands, A choice. Pushing the passion into the sea, Seeking the meaning Of life. Better hold tight, This ride is ridiculous.
By Shane Harrington 3 years ago in Poets
They're in my head trying to drive me mad Is it revenge? Or just something I dreamt? Am I delusional I can't tell Reality is blending well
By Jessica Burby3 years ago in Poets
Deep blue shores Push and pull seamlessly Wading through the shallow waters Crisp waters bringing to life The awareness of the body
By Beau Derive Plasir 3 years ago in Poets
Who remembers playing house? This was and is a game that teaches many skills; believe it or not. P is for pretend parents-
By Mark Graham3 years ago in Poets
Who remembers playing with blocks? What a way to learn. All the colors and shapes, Red, green, blue, purple, and yellow,
What makes the seasons. Do they not exist outside you. An ocean of waves, Just waiting. Harmonic leave’s falling, Into color.
Sometimes I have too much time to think, Time that I could spend in sync, With life and love. Or loving life. But instead I think.
By Heather3 years ago in Poets
All I know that It’s the truth Had to make time for the booth Needed courage for the message…. So you know It’s for the youth
By Haychie_Artist3 years ago in Poets
the sad vampire crawls in between the spaces the sun crawls through, inching by the clouds, with difficulty, going to the dark like a parasite that needs that rich black shadow to pretend that life is real
By Melissa Ingoldsby3 years ago in Poets
I still think about when it was just me and you… Filled with glee, in our pinks and blues... Green, ever since my Aunt Kelly departed this world...
By Oscar Wilson3 years ago in Poets
