Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
I am a vivid pandemonium In vibrant escalation A solitary sunbeam In a prism of fascination --- I am a crusader for expectation
By Caroline Jane5 years ago in Poets
Beyond the guiles of the man in the moon The kaleidoscope eyes I ne'er saw clearly through Emergent from darkness into prismatic light
By Shawn Hansen5 years ago in Poets
Infinite colors exist in this world: Ladybug red, Autumn leaf orange, Glacier lily yellow, Praying mantis green,
By Alyssa5 years ago in Poets
Colours of my mind, They are not always kind. The colours of my soul Are usually cheeky ass mongrel’s. Not a thought that is easily bound,
By India Grant5 years ago in Poets
The sky looks very sad today, the clouds have turned it all to gray. No beautiful blue, no bright yellow sun. Nothing but gray.
By Amanda Warren5 years ago in Poets
My particular, dormant, enervated, chalky-silver ash -suddenly burns- -then bleeds- into a searing sea blue-amethyst hue,
By Douglas Berg5 years ago in Poets
To be me There was a time I wished I wasn't I hate how my gender is seen as weak I hate that there is expectation for how
By Sarah Whitson5 years ago in Poets
I am two Each unique like the sun and the moon Moods like vivid gamboge dawn to muted russet dusk I come undone by a conversation that reminded me of someone
By Victoria Gairing5 years ago in Poets
The meaning of color Lies within my soul. A blank canvas Void beyond my control. I imagine myself as the Aurora Borealis,
By Kira Cates5 years ago in Poets
Why can’t we speak in gradients? I asked after many breaths, Seeming to see color surround another. First blue, then yellow, I see mostly green and
By camile messerley5 years ago in Poets
I don’t have my art stuff. I don’t have my paint. I’ve got one tiny brush and a color that ain’t. I’m out on an island, which is actually quite rad,
By Karyssa Adair5 years ago in Poets
Warm, splintered sunlight shines through grey curtains. My eyes awaken, A new day is born. Bright yellow lemons greet me on the counter.
By Pamela Mahler5 years ago in Poets
