Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
I am not just a number or a face upon a stage I am not a colour or shade I'm yet to write on my page I'm not defined by creed or caste, ethnicity or race
By Bee 5 years ago in Poets
A blank page is often white Ready for your input ready for your words ready for your thoughts ready for regrets ready for ideas
By Belle Connor5 years ago in Poets
I speak in dream. Undulating and unfolding into ceaseless being. I am flaxen, warm against soft skin. I am violet, blushing beneath smooth, cool sheets.
By Chad Mathews5 years ago in Poets
My ship has set sail and I'm standing at the shore watching my dream fade to blue Now who I am and who I'm supposed to be
By Daniel Miranda5 years ago in Poets
Cutting out images that one did not make, But the images - the cutouts - made them. Natural beige, ivory, peach punctuated with red - not just a red, but a deeply vibrant red -
By Jill Conner5 years ago in Poets
I wonder where you came from. What I know about you is only what I know about myself. I know that you bleed every color of the rainbow.
By Eden Row5 years ago in Poets
I have long lived in the darkness, A world stained black, Devoid of these harsh and judging lights, A place, free of gray,
By Emilia the Bat5 years ago in Poets
"A colour I'm craving more of right now is ..." My favourite journal prompt. My favourite reflection tool. My favourite fill-in-the-blank.
By Kaitlyn Dawn5 years ago in Poets
"This song is very purple," I exclaimed in joy. Only, Mom stared back With two cerulean eyes-- as if I sprouted a third:
By Emily5 years ago in Poets
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo & violet. The ROYGBIV. We see it from the foods we eat to the people we see. Divided by what we see, so blinded by our sight;
By Vy Tran5 years ago in Poets
Brown hair and matching eyes come alive in a tribal dance of meaning and ancestral significance. Stubborn cells of fat create rolling hills and valleys on my body- they are inherited protection, abundance in scarcity, and a striking landscape.
By Bec Seyh 5 years ago in Poets
"A challenge, then?" She said, One eyebrow cocked in question. "Alright." I agreed. "Name your terms." She smirked, "Did I not mention?".
By Jessie Waddell5 years ago in Poets
