Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Many know comfort in their mother’s smile. Other’s know comfort in playing catch with their father. For me, I never knew such comfort could exist.
By Autumn Easley3 years ago in Poets
We ride. Thundering through the mountains, on a Gallant steed. We fly. Whisping through the air, burning with great speed.
By Ashley Shiflett3 years ago in Poets
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By Regina Mauldin3 years ago in Poets
How do I stand being by myself for so long? How do people go on without someone? I just feel like I can just dig a hole in the ground and bury myself in and leave this earth.
When times are foggy I just lie in When it rains heavy Day’s on and down But I’m always drowsy *** It’s unesthetic
By Marie Cadette Pierre-Louis3 years ago in Poets
Blood smeared across the kitchen floor, Our day starts when yours ends. Easy job, right? Get our stories straight; He had a routine, a pattern
By David Parham3 years ago in Poets
I was lost in midst of an abyss of self hatred that I created I was sedated by rage and overtaken by pain and the worst thing is that it was all self made
By Ezra Berkman3 years ago in Poets
The rhythm flows through me, Pulsating through my veins to the beat. Completely consuming my entirety, Unable to sit still in my seat.
By Sharon Smith3 years ago in Poets
That comfort place Sun-streaked sky And blue on waves of blue A kite to catch the eye Bright sounds of laughter too
By Troy Nicholas Tucker3 years ago in Poets
The fall season has arrived at long last. The golden-hour-like sunlight hits the leaves just so. A new perspective becomes noticeable.
By Miranda Monahan3 years ago in Poets
No parties to speak of. On this new year love is what matters to us. As we forget our troubles to start anew, one thing is clear you know.
By Emily Curry (Rising Phoenix)3 years ago in Poets
Across my eyes the credits begin And in that moment I become James Bond, Indiana Jones, Buckaroo Banzai Their faces on the screen
By Kincaid Jenkins3 years ago in Poets
