art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
The Poetics of Protest
I've always thought of poetry as an artform that verbalizes my feelings. Protest has had little to do with it. I thought I had never been able to tackle the political with my extremely personal poems, because I’ve never been able to write about the country or the system. When I applied to the ‘Poetics of Protest’ workshop run by poet and editor Itisha Giri last month, I thought we were going to write poems about our nationality and our politicians.
By Deepa Bohara4 years ago in Poets
November
The seasons end with November. She comes when I fail to remember the ones who came before her. The first touch is like the impression of winter beginning at autumns end. First there was summer and then the changes end. She speaks to me while the leaves have fallen and the snow has just began it's beginning. Her touch shocks me to a frost of resolution different to the warm embrace of others fallen. To her I choose to rest through the winters sleep. Towards spring in my heart I do keep. November comes and I listen to the breath inside me which I do keep. Her hair colored but highlighted white my soul shines twice as bright. I keep her near to keep me warm but she receives my heart adorn with her beauty. December falls but she reminds me of the fall. I wit to see the snow melt to reveal what she has kept. A secret between lovers through the cold night only to blossom at springs first light. October dies without her notice while the hallowed eve of fright passes. Her kiss wakes me before winters slumber long enough so that I stay aware of love in winter.
By Chase McQuade4 years ago in Poets
