art

Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.

Cold Winter Day
The snow falls slowly, on to the cold concrete. Its freezing--- there's not a single soul is outside. Everyone is inside of their houses.
By J.W. Fleming, MFA3 years ago in Poets
the nature of the autodidact
Libra season escorted out ever so apropos by the waves of Scorpio’s wind . big shifts ahead . eclipses after
By Erin Lucas3 years ago in Poets
hawks circling overhead
What does being human feel like? . It feels like: Taking off my sweaty straw hat after a day of outside work Feeling the vanilla-sky-time-almost-fall-breeze
By Erin Lucas3 years ago in Poets
a council of beasts
a council of consciousness resides within and out . your eye twitch the goosebumps from joy and sadness .
By Erin Lucas3 years ago in Poets
secnetnes sdrawkcab
gossip always tells itself, ‽eman sih s'tahw⸘ repeating system, automatic lockdown ‽secnetnes sdrawkcab⸘
By ⸘jason alan‽3 years ago in Poets
half-feral
my own half-feral minion- be still, child, be still. my totally wild paradise, full moon sky dive- be still, child, be still.
By ⸘jason alan‽3 years ago in Poets
PLZ WASH UR HANDS!
All I do is wash my hands And scratch their back After they had a head attack. • All I know is commonplace, Finding common ground
By Ángel Sierra3 years ago in Poets
Rare
History revels to us that the rare can inspire, humiliate, scare, and even save us Rare is a matter of perspective For some Love is rare
By benjamin monard3 years ago in Poets
Poem on Enjoy
A joyous morning, a bright new day The world is alive, a lovely sight to see The sun is shining, the sky is blue A perfect day for joy to renew
By vanshika 1113 years ago in Poets
Poetry on Heartbreak
Heartbreak hits like a sucker punch It leaves you feeling so low, so forlorn It’s a pain like no other, that’s for sure
By vanshika 1113 years ago in Poets
A brilliant sunrise
In the morning, when the world is still asleep And the sun rises, casting a warm golden light, I am reminded of your beauty, so pure and so bright,
By M Anandaraj 3 years ago in Poets
Control of light, control of sound.
Inside the bewildered, forgetful laughter, in between yawns. Sitting, with the back of the chair in between my legs, we quietly whispered about bodies, about minds, about the language our body speaks, about how the mind translates, in a whole new language,
By Jamie Ramsay3 years ago in Poets