art

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

My Soul Is My Home
My Home Is My Soul Naked as I stand Who can really judge me As I am? I am me and no one can be me And I am fine with that
By Mariann Carroll3 years ago in Poets
Comforting Thoughts
In the first days of my life, I realized comforting thoughts in the world around me. The warmth and love of my parents that surrounded me brought the comfort I needed for my baby dreams. I still remember waking and crying in the dark of night, then a light glowed, and a loving face looked over me and what a comfort that was for me.
By Rasma Raisters3 years ago in Poets
Died For Devil
Died for devil I have seen stars in your eyes I heard voices of cars passing by I can see those lies in your eyes
By Syeda Tamseel Fatima3 years ago in Poets
Comfort in Movement
The pipe organ plays the major fifth; I'm dancing in the aisle with angel wings, white and pretty wings on my back. Feathers flutter in the room.
By Andrea Lawrence3 years ago in Poets
Da:ns
Are you afraid? I whisper turning a pirouette on your table You look at me like I'm incapable or worse - embarrassing
By Jay Mckenzie3 years ago in Poets
Those Stars
Those stars Whenever I see a star, I think of you Whenever I feel sad, I talk to you
By Syeda Tamseel Fatima3 years ago in Poets
Mangoes Are In
If mangoes are in I’m foodie I’ll taste them here And rejoice for years I’ll have them raw Then come on now
By Marie Cadette Pierre-Louis3 years ago in Poets
Silky Feelings
The gentle feel of the fabric Streaming through my fingers Leaving behind the magic And the silky feel that lingers
By Ashley Tenold3 years ago in Poets
You Are My Comfort
Your bright blue eyes. Your tanned dark skin. Your wavy thick hair. Your swelling heartbeat glistens my being as it glows like a Goddess
By Denise Larkin3 years ago in Poets
I Am Ecstasy
When my heart’s bathing in a music tub My blood is just a powerful rhythm And my veins move up and down like a classic beat
By Marie Cadette Pierre-Louis3 years ago in Poets
A Wayward Moment
Constant overtures of melodic meaning Finding meaning big enough to block oblivion Dusk to Dawn Lights blink on and off
By Melissa Eaves3 years ago in Poets
Spring Showers
Music heralds the arrival of the first drops—the honoured guests—while the storm takes shape. The off white clouds, devoid of malevolence for they have no lash of thunder.
By Curtis Hoogstraten3 years ago in Poets