Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
On a rainy evening of Friday, The world slows down, the sky turns grey. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof, Creates a symphony that's gentle and aloof.
By Muhammad Ali3 years ago in Poets
Fluttering wings, so delicate and small, A butterfly takes flight, in a world so tall. In the chaos of life, it's easy to forget,
By Arivu3 years ago in Poets
Amidst the tranquil whispers of the breeze, Nature's serene beauty is sure to please. From the rustling of leaves to the chirping of birds,
By Haidar- Ali3 years ago in Poets
I take my favorite red balloon Everywhere I go When my class does a show and tell It's always what I show · Sometimes I feel it give a tug
By Ryan Giese3 years ago in Poets
Two hundred and Two feet up Maybe half An inch across · Even a warm, Gentle breeze Could prove Fatal · Arms outstretched, I struggle to walk
Your voice is like Chamomile Tea, when I'm tired, I Look for it in my cupboards
Steady, determined footsteps Quiet conversations Sounds of birds talking To each other · They pass by often, in groups,
A three year-old Seeing a cat Now, excited, rushes To pick it up · He learns Quickly, though not fully The meaning of the word
From tiny seeds we plant the hope Of something great to come With patience and with gentle care We see the growth begun
By Nora Soto3 years ago in Poets
Its 06:00 O clock morning slowing the light comes Everybody started waking up one by one There is a yellow light in the blue sky from the east
By rass3 years ago in Poets
He walks a lonely road, A figure dark, a heavy load. His heart is heavy, burdened with pain, A constant struggle, a battle in vain.
By Karun 3 years ago in Poets
Darkness creeps across the land, A shadow cast by evil's hand. Its cold grip chills to the bone, As we feel its presence, all alone.
