Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Autumn trees tell me We’ll end being wind spun leaves Seeking endless life
By George Zelinski4 months ago in Poets
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
I turned into ash After falling at your feet Burn your wooden heart
There are fire opals and sunstones raging in my veins, a molten clock that only beats when you appear A kiln inside me where the sun you give me glow
By Cadma4 months ago in Poets
You caused me to fall My impact has left you stunned The reaping whirlwind
Transfiguration The Photovoltaic tree Tech idolatry
Those leaves blocked my view I removed the obstruction What a killer view
my mind, adhering with orange, sticky juice to my hard limits and i have run out of patience nobody likes to wake up but if you don't, life still waits
By ⸘jason alan‽4 months ago in Poets
OUTSTAGES CAFÉ PRESENTS PORTALS TO OTHER WORLDS: THE NEXT ADVENTURE Time Travel via Jukebox Frequencies Live Theater with Ghost Cameos
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 4 months ago in Poets
I told myself working a good job would make me a valuable person. Until I was working and missed a fungal infection in my lungs.
By Lacie Grayson4 months ago in Poets
