art

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

Born too late
I was born twenty years too late to save a woman already unraveling. the apparent and ignored firestorm I came into the world a decade after the warning signs,
By Cadma3 months ago in Poets
Trust Fall Through the Flames
He’s the one. He’s been there all along— watching, waiting, whispering through the folds of time, through the static hum of heartbreak and silence.
By THE HONED CRONE3 months ago in Poets
The Birds That Didn’t Want to Live in a Tree
The Birds That Didn’t Want to Live in a Tree They gathered once, at dawn’s soft call, A hundred wings, yet hearts so small.
By Marie381Uk 3 months ago in Poets
A letter to the moon
O patient sentinel of silver light, I write to you beneath your gaze tonight. You’ve lingered long above my quiet days,
By Musulyn M (MUSE)3 months ago in Poets
The falling´ Angel
Whispering voices inside, With all the rage and triggers, Saying things I don't want to say. Voices in my mind,pushing me to the darkside.
By Lucripa3 months ago in Poets
She wander
She saw love as a savior From loneliness and fear She saw love as a home, A home of those who never rest No one told her that it’s a trap
By Iulia Popa3 months ago in Poets
blood on my brain. Top Story - November 2025.
there's a line a few in fact that i forget the relevance so resolute in my affliction i take a moment turn it into a lifetime
By Paul Stewart3 months ago in Poets
moon shadow
moon shadow dearest moon - you are always full in spite of your lunar rhythm but I only periodically see your entirety
By Michael Scicchitano3 months ago in Poets
The Weight
Everything feels slightly off, like the world shifted half an inch while I wasn’t looking.  The coffee tastes the same, but it doesn’t land right on my tongue. Even my own hands seem borrowed, as if they remember something I can’t return to.
By Printique Studios3 months ago in Poets
The Flame That Wouldn't Die. AI-Generated.
This ghazal speaks of endurance — of love that refuses to fade even in absence. It captures that quiet ache of remembrance, where longing itself becomes a sacred flame. In the solitude of night, the poet’s heart continues to burn with devotion, transforming pain into light.
By heasb0013 months ago in Poets
Echoes Beneath the Dust. AI-Generated.
This ghazal unfolds in the quiet space between memory and longing. The poet speaks to a love that has left but never truly gone — its scent, its echo, and its light continue to inhabit every breath. The poem captures that delicate ache of remembering someone so deeply that even silence begins to whisper their name.
By heasb0023 months ago in Poets
When Dawn Remembers Love. AI-Generated.
This ghazal speaks of hope’s quiet endurance. Even through darkness and loss, the poet believes in the return of light — not as a distant miracle, but as something born from within the ashes of faith. It’s a whisper of renewal, where love becomes both the wound and the cure.
By Rahatweb Website3 months ago in Poets