art

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

She runs, runs, runs
I walk where the wild things hush, through nettled paths and bone-white birches, where frost clings like memory…so tightly,
By Cadma4 months ago in Poets
Whispers
Whispers in the walls no one else hears them but me. They call me by name.
By Cadma4 months ago in Poets
The little things I cling to
I hold on to the little things Were all these items in a store I would not think to buy them Now not much else means more
By Raine Fielder4 months ago in Poets
The End
Frigid wind pulls all the life from earth Knives of cold pierce the skin A song that plays in the night The warmth drains from without and in
By Raine Fielder4 months ago in Poets
Evening By The River Pool
It’s evening and the sun sets And makes its palette on the river pool Where water settles to rest And brook trout idle
By Judah LoVato4 months ago in Poets
I've Got a Jar of Hope
Discordant Disruptive Disrespectful All labels I’ve borne For daring to ask Where lies the truth? 🏺🏺🏺🏺🏺🏺🏺🏺 All evils known
By K.B. Silver 4 months ago in Poets
The Flame That Rose from Silence. AI-Generated.
This ghazal is a meditation on spiritual longing — the ache that transforms absence into illumination. The poet stands between shadow and light, where the memory of the beloved revives the soul’s dormant flame. It’s not merely love’s sorrow, but its power to awaken what time cannot erase.
By Rahatweb Website4 months ago in Poets
The Breath That Outlasted Time. AI-Generated.
This ghazal reflects on love as the only permanence within impermanence. As time erases all traces of existence, the beloved becomes the timeless constant — a divine echo that endures beyond decay. Through fleeting breaths and vanished moments, the poet finds eternity in devotion.
By heasb0024 months ago in Poets
Echoes Beneath the Morning Sky. AI-Generated.
This ghazal captures the quiet ache of distance — the tender, unspoken dialogue between longing and memory. Through dawn’s stillness and whispered dreams, the poet finds solace not in reunion, but in the act of remembering. Love becomes both absence and presence, pain and prayer.
By heasb0014 months ago in Poets
Silent Balance
Autumn moonlight, ah! a crane lifts from the still marsh, ripples fade to hush.
By Printique Studios4 months ago in Poets
Even Silence Has Wings
As I slowly opened my eyes, the world around me dissolved into a canvas of pale light, a blankness that seemed to stretch on forever. I blinked, and with each flutter of my lids, the void sharpened into shapes, like a watercolor painting taking form. A figure took hold at the periphery of my visional bird, silent and still, watching me with an unblinking gaze.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 4 months ago in Poets
Lantern Through All My Days
Shadows, darkness form, as dusk cradles the dawn <> Red flags — the buzzword of our age. Only slight glimmers of light ever seen,
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Poets