Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
He stole from me something I never thought I'd lose Some people would decide to give, but I didn't get to choose I didn't get to tell my mother or leave a letter for them all to know
By Neon Divine5 years ago in Poets
Bass is the enemy of silence Sound so loud you can see the vibrations Should it hit you Would there be violence? It’s a beat, you’re supposed to hit it back
By Aintsh*tPoet5 years ago in Poets
The slayer retires and turns to gardening; A miser may spend a fortune on her; The infidel falls on his knees, Then prays to God,
By Ahmet F. Ilhan5 years ago in Poets
I call upon their harmony They honor me with artistry The pupils of Apollo's Lyre resonant inside of me Calliope adventurous,
By Michael Brandon Marchese5 years ago in Poets
Upon the Shores of Olympus Beseeching now the sonic heavens Seeking for accord to find The clashing titan symphonies
I've not known many truths.. Everything I've heard, Or sometimes even said, Were the truths of others, And I, A mere crank-toy.
My friend, my love, Never has there been a life, Much fulfilled with much delight, And absent of sorrow. Life is sorrowful -
Faded Man A strong man, All in faded black, With a huge tattoo on his arm. A man with no volume, And with ripped jeans,
By C. Ford5 years ago in Poets
Life is a mistress. Life is not your girlfriend or boyfriend. She is not to be trusted, she will not be there to help you when you fall and, in all probability, she doesn’t even care much about you. Or he.
By Nicolas Teixeira Cabral5 years ago in Poets
Despite my self affiliation with the circus clown I've never been a good juggler so I think I'll pass Cause too many things just has the ring of difficulty
By alan pierce5 years ago in Poets
It all starts with the wake-up The wall comes up It guarded with a beast, filled with rage fueled by delusion and pain
By Swift Excerpt5 years ago in Poets
Constantly living in the shadows of self doubt. Unsure of who I am. Memories spiraling together like web threads. Distorted images in my mind, like paint drops in pools of water.
By Israel "Jade" Hector5 years ago in Poets
