Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Passing exhibit In un-remorseful palette The art of leaving
By George Zelinski4 months ago in Poets
No shade you offer No protection you provide How leaving leaves you
Wistful withering. Wilting wanton wanderers. Willed with wintry winds.
Pen to paper The space between Felt plucking at fibers Creates a melody As if the pen were a wand Waking a sleeping sheet from slumber
By Pōlani Monderen 4 months ago in Poets
We flush essentials down the drain, Only half-truths get repurposed. Where does the waste go When it can no longer be shoved,
Be careful with guardians of the heart For they will keep you apart Vexation of supposed protection A misdirection of feelings
By Atomic Historian4 months ago in Poets
I eat myself to feed my soul I roll with every toll Time laid out ahead and behind me Thoughts creating and destroying the fallacy of my reality
The rain slithers across the plain The lion feigns disinterest in his mistress Mysterious visitors A horrendous sound shakes the ground
Autumn trees tell me We’ll end being wind spun leaves Seeking endless life
Nature calls me home Soft winds carry me to rest Summer was the best
"You have to dream before your dreams can come true." I woke with a— some kind of feeling in the soles of my feet
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Poets
Falling is such joy Together sharing pleasure I’m just passing, bye
