art

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

Tender Mountains
A bride dressed in white, A bridegroom in firs, Riverruns falling along a rugged inseam. Landslides and thunder when cracking occurs.
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
Company of poems
If 'poetry' could take selfies I might be the one with most. if poetry could walk hand in hand I would have hurt my feet and legs.
By Gagan K2 years ago in Poets
Die-Anna
this sweet tragedie of death my loveliest of forlorn ones they’ll weep no more those eyes like sad fountains nor thine eyelids flutter as
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
Endimyon
“In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken hearted” - Poe
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
Acherontia styx
Passing porch-light where grey love-moths flutter to each other how each lover's Love is like the Sun (stare too long into its face and you'll go blind)
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
GötterdämmerRap
Everywhere I go, people're glued to their screens If they could they'd fuse a smartphone into their genes. Visions of Huxley & Bradbury dance in my head
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
After the Phaedrus
I think of days long ago —when we sat under trees in an old cemetery ( or was it by the banks of Illissus? ) where shade and stones cooled our bodies
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
Up All Night
Up all night Nymphette pixies Flickering in candlelight In Dublin's fair city Where the girls are so pretty Bright nightsweat
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
The Scholarship Has Sailed
Oh, that wishing-it-were-otherwise-woe is mine! No opportune windows ever open after closing-time. No more pretty-pleasing rhyming schemes now please.
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
Labors of the Wandering Love-Lost
What were we wine-ing of Last Johannes Nacht? (or was it St. Stephen’s Daeg?) When the Poldy cactus was in Bloom And we turned Heaven Upside Down
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
Norns
Things on my ceiling: The biggest damn spyder-wights I've seen in all my life And a beautiful black butterfly, wings delicately folded, dead-asleep.
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets
Faeryring
Chimes tinkling. Faerymusic. Harmless winsome windchime bells (cobwebbed) hanging by a thread, borne by the winds. Boading no ill-omen nor intent. Faery (moth) wings breathblown whispering neither good nor bad intent, nither sad nor happy thoughts. Bereft of intention.
By Halston Williams2 years ago in Poets