Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
The haiku is a poetic form that is light to handle but difficult to master. Underappreciated for its simplicity, it is sometimes thought of as the poet’s hors d'oeuvre: that is, a bite-sized piece about some minor observation used only as an entrance or complement to real writing.
By Justin4 years ago in Poets
Mocked mirrored corridors, pursue mother Marie’s calling, drop your heart and count the trees, a husband fell and muttered to thee,
By Lilian Wicca 4 years ago in Poets
'The Magic Hand' that I just completed with 'Paint' on my computer. I used the marker and pencil icons to complete. I had an idea of a small house with some form walking away then appears, you guess it 'a magic hand'.
By Mark Graham4 years ago in Poets
Here are two more of my pieces to start. My initial sketch and a finished one that I used the marker stylus on my computer.
This is a picture I drew on my computer using the crayon with my stylus. My style of art is mainly what I call Beginner Primitive.
The paper blank, just like the beaming snow. The wood danced and slid across the page. The pencils grey, like the ash from a fire afterglow.
By Maisam Almrabat4 years ago in Poets
I want to name you my beyond child Because you will reach so high that there, the light always touches, so that even in the darkest of places you will always see a future in being You
By K. Waterss4 years ago in Poets
For anyone toying with me like my mind is a game, Barking up the wrong tree, trying to drive me insane. I just hope one day you pay for all this hate and pain you gave me trying to cloud my vision and get me to make the wrong decision.
By Charles Walton4 years ago in Poets
Counseling is one way to help yourself and others. There are many ways to do, here is eclectic - a way to help. E is for empathy,
Writing all over the place is a necessary step. Notes on napkins and missives on memo board. Take your favorite pen or any instrument that makes a mark,
By The Dani Writer4 years ago in Poets
When I was a child I prayed and prayed for safety, for warmth, for change — / until I dropped all hope, instead shouldering
By Lucy Dan (she/her/她)4 years ago in Poets
My eyes nothing but a ruse The physical is far beyond my view Mirrors are wasted empty panes of glass Lenses capture nothing but memories past
By SouloCircus4 years ago in Poets
