art

Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.

achromatic
I Am Not. I feel colorless sometimes. I am not a magical thing, or a work of art for you to gawk at, I won't mask up, I won't color up my gray--- no, my achromatic feelings for you they are here, they are drained already, and when I finally can do something (that makes me feel fulfilled) to show a little bit of something like a different little hue, then I might be inclined to show you the side of me I only show to my mirror the achromatic light and dark shadows I drown in and also live in. Achromatic; living without color does not mean you have no brilliance but it does suggest a life lived listlessly but mine isn't---it is lived passionately through my colorless days and my dream filled ones, a labyrinth of memories and nightmares, fresh pains and old tears, I am not just those things But I am everything, something without shadow and sound and without fear--- I am not
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 years ago in Poets
A Blank Canvas
I wrote a poem about my 6 year old painting. I buy him canvases to paint on, so he can feel a since of accomplishment when we hang it on the wall. The poem is short, please enjoy!
By C C5 years ago in Poets
I Stare at Color
I stare at a blanket of white Titanium white, opaque white, thick white. My tongue thick and heavy in my mouth, unmoving and dry
By Victoria Dietz5 years ago in Poets
The color of our souls
I do not know what color my soul is, but I can say with surety That what resides inside of me are wreaths of prideful glory.
By eternal_sun5 years ago in Poets
A Moment Passing
A moment passes, Like how a river flows. It is born, it is nourished, it manifests itself in our life And, through remembrance,
By Mihaela Vasileva5 years ago in Poets
A Colour Unique
I stand alone within this world Invisible to all, Upon a rock splashed black from storms. An outsider, Thoughts coloured from beyond this place.
By Wendy Roe5 years ago in Poets
Dark Brutal Elegance
Sometimes when my eyes are closed, a kaleidoscope consumes my vision. Patterns. Shapes. Movement. Sparking the trail of gasoline, that explodes the dynamic collision.
By Emily Rabone5 years ago in Poets
The Lucky One
You never hesitate to tell me, The ways we aren't the same, You want me to fit the mould, Like it won't cause any pain. -
By Jessie Waddell5 years ago in Poets
122 Days
It begins with White the international colour of surrender. Then comes Orange because the sun will set and it will rise. Green to follow what they say is true: it is greener on the other side. Next is Red, reminding me to give thanks for the blood running through my veins.Halfway comes Blue, the colour that guides us.Yellow shines light on my thoughts now focused on my fellows. No slips, no dips, Glow in the dark, the only colour you can see in the night. Grey, the colour of a solid foundation.
By Mrs.Cohen5 years ago in Poets
Just a Purple Soul Surviving a Colorless World
My soul spends endless hours swimming deep in thought, Like a lilac sea star on the ocean floor, A perfect balance of my mother’s strength and my father’s integrity,
By Kristen Renee5 years ago in Poets
les fauves
I am no man’s dream or aspiration. I am the fantasy they run to escape the life they chose. For a night, they are unhinged and free as me.
By Rebecca Joy5 years ago in Poets
Intune-Feelings like Colors
When I was young enough that the Florida tall-grass grew taller than me , I followed the fireflies and felt blue and thought I'm just like them, and maybe
By Shia Pennett5 years ago in Poets