Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Human cells and biology are definitely an absurdity. We’re held together by specialized groups of circular, jelly-like gloops?
By Abby Kay Mendonca3 years ago in Poets
Golden Oh, golden treasure, how you shine, A symbol of wealth, yours is divine. From ancient times, you've captured our hearts, The very essence of riches and smarts.
By Jeyam 3 years ago in Poets
Life can be quite absurd, it's true Like searching for Wi-Fi when there's nothing to do Or taking a selfie in front of a wall
By S McCellon3 years ago in Poets
In the digital realm, where pixels reign, Love finds a new form, a futuristic gain. No longer confined to human touch, AI brings new possibilities to love's clutch.
By MAKING REAL MONEY3 years ago in Poets
Fried Oreos and fried butter stands all over the place Cowboy hats and big belt buckles, turquoise and mad lace Hunger pains after carnival rides
By Elsa3 years ago in Poets
I’m here to issue this kindly alert Limericks taste best when they’re chock full o’ dirt filth, crud, grit, grease and grime
By Sam Spinelli3 years ago in Poets
The cheering crowds are Silenced by the screaming noise Of twenty V10's
By Jonathan Lawrence3 years ago in Poets
I’m breaking you open piece by piece. You cry more easily. I am able to feed you my mind and it confuses you, but you are a different tree.
By Jamie Ramsay3 years ago in Poets
Why is it that we faint? When it is life, we are trying to paint. Who is that clown? Trying to cover my frown? Darling, may I file a complaint?
By Centina Alexa König-Weichhardt3 years ago in Poets
I have a full time world and a part time world, that is fading from my heart these past few weeks. My full time world, I show up to class, and we dim the lights so Jen’s vertigo isn’t so bad.
It was hard to be a woman today. To be a woman involves explanations you don’t have the energy for. I cannot harness that territorial love into my hips like she can, in front of other women who feed my body with their gaze.
There are limericks and haikus too, Some poems penned just for you. Syllables do matter, Not just idle chatter. Haunting words in a playful zoo.
By Iris Brooks3 years ago in Poets
