art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
When the Story Forgets Itself
I've been thinking lately that sometimes all I'm good for is bad metaphors and nonsensical whatever you want to call it. Some say art, some say a futile attempt to prove that I am anything more than whatever you want to call me. Working backwards or counting breaths
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Poets
A Reckless Luge
Verbless in time as in a plaintive muse, Or to be twice born and seen as someone new And as pointedly in terms of an eternal spruce What's an evergreen, fading over edges, coming out of the woods .. Of souls ridden in a reckless luge Above all shades, gliding o'er those earthly dues Yea as you and me racing incessantly, thro' and thro To be graced or still yet, grounded as in that nature's grove Oft where unceasing fountains chute up to views As all transparencies light up the mid-summer-night’s lieu Therein reside —me and mine, and ye and you ; all mixed up in such a blended hue... call it an amalgam , or a synergy or whatever you choose .. Evermore like all ends and all truths to ultimately suffuse ! © « Madhu Goteti, April 18th, 2022
By Madhu Goteti about a month ago in Poets
