art

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

Volant,Scripta Manent
Sitting on this bench here on this road. Waiting for someone to rescue me, but no one appears. ... Everyone is going in the same direction,
By Lucripaabout a month ago in Poets
The Prismatic Eden
In realms where silence gently gleams, a garden sleeps, beyond our dreams. Where emerald leaves are carved of ice, and sapphire petals, sharp and nice.
By The 9x Fawdiabout a month ago in Poets
Beneath The Willow Tree
Beneath the willow tree I rest and marvel at all its leaves have seen Memories incarnate of when this was meadow
By Matthew J. Frommabout a month ago in Poets
The Moment
It starts with your eyes, steady and warm enough to pull the ground from under me in the gentlest way possible. There’s a quiet in your stare
By Printique Studiosabout a month ago in Poets
My Roots and My Branches
What are my roots and values? Are they the same thing or not? I think that they are the same... question that leaves me in thought.
By The Schizophrenic Momabout a month ago in Poets
The Branch and Feelings
The root is where my heart starts and grew —- My heart beats, my veins flow, my blood rise… it went through my soul, entirely—
By Meghan LeVaughn about a month ago in Poets
Heaven or Miami?
Summer, loses its heat for you like a distracted lover, A star entranced by the cold glow of the moon. Only to return after finding out the greener grass was artificial
By Kristen Keenon Fisherabout a month ago in Poets
Stormcloud
I am flying through the sky You see me passing by I am crying on the ground And I make a booming sound Just to warn you that I am here
By Domiabout a month ago in Poets
The Moment I Realized Your Heart Chose Mine
I start with the way you look at me, soft, almost startled, as if love arrived early and refused to wait at the door. There’s a warmth in it,
By Printique Studiosabout a month ago in Poets
The Stone Faces
The Stone Faces I wandered through a garden where silence had weight, Where four stone faces watched with unreadable eyes,
By Marie381Uk about a month ago in Poets
gateway
Gateway” Across the water, smoke lifts itself into the sky— a thin, shaking prayer. And I’d cross every mile of that dark river
By Skippie Petrovaabout a month ago in Poets
Breaking Curses of Dark Entities. Content Warning.
This flame is mine to ignite, not theirs to erase. Every curse becomes fuel, every attempt at destruction becomes witness. I stand sovereign truth over lies, care over cruelty, cadence over silence. This archive is not theirs to burn; it is mine to keep alive.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a month ago in Poets