Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Its said Van Gogh ate yellow paint To wash away the dark taint Of demons inside. But so far all my tasting Leads to colors just wasting
By Brooke Herbst5 years ago in Poets
I am brown living in a world of color black spirits filling my heart with shadows of grey experiences of how life should be but these colors live in me
By Manice Lester “Shawny”5 years ago in Poets
you don't pretend to be an innovator— no masterpieces will scrape by these hands— but you still have a way about you with how
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Poets
She doesn’t really smile anymore. It’s more of a grimace these days. The muscles in her face have been stretched thin by life.
By Hannah Pniewski5 years ago in Poets
What am I today? I ask myself every morning when I rise. My mind starts upon opening my eyes. This cloud of overhanging
By Steven Palmer5 years ago in Poets
Some may think of colour and think race, Some may think of colour and think Rainbows and paint, But when I think of colour I picture energy, The colours that envelope the earth and our Frequent memories.
By Natalia Psalta5 years ago in Poets
S to feel known, to feel seen through to feel inside out, to have been to the edge of all my lies now I need to forgive myself and my need to wear a mask,
By Hx Brett5 years ago in Poets
Couldnt save me from myself coulda tamed me from that hell ol savior of danger I never subscribed to the baby in the manger
By Robert mackenna5 years ago in Poets
In my mind In the depths of my mind It begins Within, my soul stirs An exciting anticipation The possibilities! The brush
By Soraya Silvestri Artist5 years ago in Poets
I am magenta, hear me roar I am finger flipping off red maga hat I am rainbow jersey flapping in the wind I am white of the brightest star
By Tony Blankenship5 years ago in Poets
Cyan Sky Damp drops form Happiness Not sadness In the corner of my eye Magenta kite Flies so high lilies the same colour
By Cy Freud5 years ago in Poets
Though I may be colourblind, still I see in you, the ruddy tint upon your lips, your fingertips turn blue. Today will end and so it slips
By Ollie Feather5 years ago in Poets
