Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Is she black or is she white? It is your mind’s creation It’s not about the color wheel Color is a pigment of your imagination
By Alex Slusher5 years ago in Poets
RED WAS HER COLOR Her lips were twin bows That opened to reveal Sparkling whites When a smile lit up Her honey’n’milk
By Muneeb Sharieff5 years ago in Poets
We equivalate the colour black with malignancy, But in a child’s eyes, it’s benign: The place between the stars, The shadow behind the light.
By Katelyn Lancaster 5 years ago in Poets
Chubby, rosy cheeked and wide-eyed in my hyper-vigilance, I arrived one frigid February afternoon in time for high tea.
By Julia Schulz5 years ago in Poets
I don’t see pink or blue I see purple I see intermeshing hues pulsing together and then falling apart The more unique the person the brighter their colors shine
By Elle Mc5 years ago in Poets
They said when I was born There was a road map on my mind Veins traveling, one nerve to the next I am see thru. Transparency is my favorite color.
By Naimah Muhammad5 years ago in Poets
Orange as the very first, then green and purple too. Burgundy and mint are all colors that I knew. Favorites I held in
By Annaliese Broce5 years ago in Poets
Hours among flowers, dirtied with mud Those days long ago, with my earthen bud Are now only dreams. Though it seems that the matter remains
By Tristan Anleu5 years ago in Poets
We see the world in color. But not the colors we choose. All of the patterns, shapes and swirling hues where Already there.
By kevin woods5 years ago in Poets
I know how to take a photo I get composition I know what filters get likes I can plant an image in your mind I can stand out from the rest
By Kinloch Anstiss5 years ago in Poets
My anxiety can be Red, I can’t see past the present, so my tears are not silent My screams are stuck in my throat But they soon come out, like I’ve been hit with a belt Whiffs, coarse sighs, and heavy breaths.
By Damilola5 years ago in Poets
There’s a thousand colours here There’s a thousand kinds of one colour here There’s no light here There’s light here constantly
By Brendan Welch5 years ago in Poets
