Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
I imagine gravestones The color of rainbows. Red, orange, yellow, Blue, green, indigo. The violets, they grow Amidst the resting souls.
By Caitlin Ryan5 years ago in Poets
My body is not What I was born with We are what I have made of us Violet burns, indigo bruises, blue ink, And green scars that shimmer.
By Michelle Orabona5 years ago in Poets
kayumangi, morena A dear friend—a sometime poet noticed how I had a penchant for earth tones, natty browns, they said, and
By J G Luz5 years ago in Poets
Up to the top, across to the side, Round and round we go. Upside down back up again bouncing off the sides, and Round and round we go.
By Carol Ann Townend5 years ago in Poets
In my blue striped dress I look like a Russian expat Obtrusive as a snail Leeching dye On the sandstone strolls Of the French Riviera
By Bride of Sound5 years ago in Poets
My aura hugs me from behind Because I can never truly provide The love that can view my eyes Through pink tinted glass
By Kevin Hoang5 years ago in Poets
In 2012, while at a ceramic artist residency in Skaelskor, Denmark, I became infatuated with the color yellow. I wanted to get lost in it.
By Mary Roberts5 years ago in Poets
Do you remember those blue skies in mid July? Picking dandelions, Arranging symbols of marigold moments Behind your ear? In your ponytail?
By Rysha Schuler5 years ago in Poets
Purple makes me feel like royalty which is what I wear when I’m on my mission Golden is the shade of my heartbeats behind my strength and my vision
By Savannah Brock 5 years ago in Poets
The orange is true in it's demeanor How imagined grass is greener Yellowed sun when none has seen her rays When waters blue such as the sky
By Madison Davis5 years ago in Poets
She always asks, why? She always says, I wish it could be, I wish it was. Where’s the practicality? A complacent delusion.
By Milori Hamburger5 years ago in Poets
I once saw an absence I had dreamt it to truth A black and white story The captor was you My eyes remained closed By my memory’s hold
By Anthony Keadle5 years ago in Poets
