Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
My left ear is small; uneven with a fold, ‘Not very pretty,’ I was once told. In a world of make-up, filters and plastic,
By Molly Elise5 years ago in Poets
This is for the Pink and the hues of the colour yellow born in the late spring between the wet days and majestically growing trees leaves deepening their green
By Sara Anniina Karpanen5 years ago in Poets
The Colour Orange The tiles in my amber kitchen are new. His boxers now orange and not boring blue. Early bday gift from you know who...
By Vicky Rudolph5 years ago in Poets
Colour blind, Only black, white and grey matters, Dark thoughts, form darker shade patterns, Shadows smother my brains balance,
By Duke Durham5 years ago in Poets
Black A tone A place where I begin and end The most simplistic form The dark place where I often find myself The uniform for where I live
By JHAZ 5 years ago in Poets
If I exposed my auburn freckled Pearly pale sheets of flesh Flipped it inside out and showed this crimson red Passion for creating and giving life
By Marquitta5 years ago in Poets
Yellow mustard is blooming in every mass body or land or sea, From left and right. Everywhere we see. There is that lovely color we call mustard yellow.
By Burnt Baguettes5 years ago in Poets
I won't call myself a rainbow, as I colour outside the lines; But always irridescant, like the clouds move in the sky.
By Tara May5 years ago in Poets
Access advocate Birth to the people Gear change it’s been a cool minute Passion and glory My father said No accountability burden free
By Christopher Almeida5 years ago in Poets
I am a spectrum of parts made of light The colours apparent With each turning facet The blues; turbulent turmoil and storms
By Andrea Rivero5 years ago in Poets
The color of I, For I am words on a paper, just black and white I'll be the voice to wave back, and write, Who did you imagine, or what did you imagine,
By Junki Arakane5 years ago in Poets
Cloudy moonlight— If I could be a witch I’d grab my broom And every night Id sit with the moon And if watch as the mood moved
By 1am.lucid5 years ago in Poets
