art

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

Poets' Corner: Edo, The Sun
Poetry, a form of art that knows no limits nor bounds.It paints images of people, places and experiences in the mind of the reader and etches emotions onto the readers' soul. It allows the reader to live the lives of a thousand men as well as experience the poets' love, heart ache, achievements and failures. One poem has the potential to generate a myriad of interpretations and leave the reader with infinite ideologies to contemplate.
By MakaaPaaka6 years ago in Poets
MA Art
It's been used Looks a bit abused No longer wanted...discarded! I then appear and get all excited Immediately thinking creative ways to repair it
By Zawadi SJ6 years ago in Poets
Soundtrack of My Soul
In the morning, it's classic. Mozart, Bach, Tchaikovsky. Whatever the sky calls for, the radio plays. By midday, it's indie.
By Mihaela Vasileva6 years ago in Poets
Desire
A hidden desire stirs within me. Its venom, moving through the rivers of my life, pierces my organs. Whatever entity has trapped me in its claws
By Mihaela Vasileva6 years ago in Poets
Poems
Mme. G. Type Beat Regardless of this and regardless of that, You accompany me moment by moment and day by day. Your abiding presence is surer than fact,
By Noah Servant-Of-All6 years ago in Poets
Work In Progress
I painted a picture of dreams and peace, stood back and jumped into it and tried to fit into it with ease. though beautiful as one could hope,
By Hayli Wilson6 years ago in Poets
Art Man
It seems that my saliva’s been misplaced So now my throat is dry And my lips are cracked And I don’t mind, but I mind
By Violet P. Davies6 years ago in Poets
Bathing Suit
I turned the key, opened the door and tossed the keys in the trash. Half passed the hour, so I rolled up my cuffs and started a bath.
By S.W. 6 years ago in Poets
Water in Us: Three Poems
rising like water flowing out of all of us seeping and standing still unaffected by gravity is it any thing at all? How does denial serve us?
By Mary Rose Devine6 years ago in Poets
Chrysalis (Cold Stone)
When they told me the fable I didn't believe the tale The goddess of silent tragedy Simply could not exist There's no such thing
By Korinne Joy Tuck6 years ago in Poets
Shadow’s Art
I carry the shadow from one room to the next in this quiet and empty space. Much like him, I understand frailty. Yet, fluidly he travels alongside me,
By Mihaela Vasileva6 years ago in Poets
Words
Words Scrabble over fissures Clog my sluggish brain Mercenary, Courageous, and Profane Words Shape serpentine ranks Fervent to strike
By Eugene C. Scott6 years ago in Poets