Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
One moment I am here— breath fogging glass, fingerprints on doorknobs, shadow trailing behind me like a faithful dog. The next, I am
By Parsley Rose 4 months ago in Poets
Dereck looked out from his Prius, with a sense of indignity at the malevolence all around him Penning the woven words of woe and dispassionate despair, he waits,
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Poets
Poetry is my blood it's full of pretension, that's a word, don't look it up, it's a word. Trust me and trust my pen.
Clinging to the branch Is a golden maple leaf Trembling in the wind.
By Darla M Seely4 months ago in Poets
An Anthem for the New Scholar ( New arrival student ) Writer: Amir Husen You come to us, a mind aflame with light,
By Amir Husen4 months ago in Poets
Deep within the darkest nights Alone I lie awake Waiting, listening without sights Longing, my heart begins to quake
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️4 months ago in Poets
Cursed be he, Who trudges upon this ashy path, Let death begotten to this foe so full of woe, Let life cease to grow within his dust,
My Deceit ~ Darkened wind of my shadowy night Rush to my side So that I may hide These words of my deceit ~ Tell the years to hearken their pace
Redemption ~ I sit here and cry my eyes out Until there’s nothing else to cry about There’s no where Where I can run
Timbers of Oakwood Crawling with vines of poison Ivory white fillings ~ Sunlight pours inward Towards the Ends of the Planet
My Sun, My Prince See there the Queen rises To meet you at her feet Come take the day as it may And forget the rides
Black Crows 10/5/2004 It’s as if death, himself, were following me Thorns of my roses Draw the blood from my wrists
