art

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

Wondering Brain
Everyday my mind wonder There so many things to think about And so I pounder Until the next thing fill my mind Do you ever stop thinking?
By Mariann Carroll4 years ago in Poets
Intrusive Thoughts
Drowning within the swirling confusion between thoughtless despair and humility, the body that holds me wishes to crack like an egg on a breakfast skillet.
By Natalie Johnson4 years ago in Poets
PLAY MY PART
Can’t believe I went through that Way I handled very smart Could’ve taken all apart Sitting In the room so dark Rhyming words I’ll call It art
By Haychie_Artist4 years ago in Poets
Rewiring My Mind
I’ve been trying to sort through this ignorant shit in my mind. I’ve been trying to learn what is wrong and right. The more I learn, the more I realize everything is a fucking lie.
By Natalie Johnson4 years ago in Poets
salsa in a redux
Flashing, it stares so blank and chatter flies brisk, disjointed. Her cries mimic laughter, (put there) to mock your smiles (and its) grotesque spine.
By jake c4 years ago in Poets
100+Poetry
100+Poetry Credits Copyright 2021 Published by Laura's Creations Poems by: L.I.F./bloodylover96/bloodylover1996
By Laura Fish4 years ago in Poets
Beware The Inkling
Beware the Inkling Beware the Inkling, all those who cling to self. It makes a mockery of identity, erasing and redrawing lines for its pleasure.
By J. Daniels4 years ago in Poets
Bourgnewian Golden Age
From Perpertual to Humanity to Grace to Unity to Freedom to Liberty. From the North Sea to the Valley of the Kings
By Distinguished Honorary Alumni Dr. Matthew Primous4 years ago in Poets
Lend Me Your Ear
Lend me your ear So that I may listen to your piano play. I shall stretch my fingers across the keys While you produce a scale of your choosing.
By River Cronan 4 years ago in Poets
Memories
I wonder where the memory goes when it gets locked away A deep and lonesome corner, I think is safe to say I wonder though if maybe its easy to define
By Jose Sanchez4 years ago in Poets
Legend
Speaking words into thunder lightly approaching. Whispering sun, whispering wind whispering. And then slowly building base. A landing of immortal footing. Standing then running out the pace. This step is massive and infinity is left counting the seconds, before the storm.
By Shane Harrington 4 years ago in Poets
Not at home.
I am not home. Like I said, I am not home and I am not sure when I will be back. But even if I was there, you won’t find me there, if you really, sincerely, must ask.
By Jeffrey Sparks4 years ago in Poets