art

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

PERFUME
PERFUME She gathered rose petals at dawn, soft as the blush upon her face, and placed them in a glass bottle with patience, love, and grace.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 5 minutes ago in Poets
THE THING BEYOND THE VEIL
THE THING BEYOND THE VEIL Beyond the veil of coloured lights, Halfway between the earth and sky, A lonely figure watches life, But no one knows the reason why.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about 2 hours ago in Poets
Minimum Output
The blood d r i p s F I l l s their coffers. Another of society's horrors. Treacherous their trajectory o b l i
By Paul Stewartabout 6 hours ago in Poets
The Residue
Entwined, as two snakes ~ Passion Fueled... PHYSICAL ~ Only Stains remain
By Hecton J Elweyabout 11 hours ago in Poets
Refraction
There is a prism of light where disavowal takes form. It lies spread eagle on the kitchen table with its hands cut off and feet bound with satin rope.
By Amanda Abelaabout 13 hours ago in Poets
THE ONE-EYED MOON SEES ALL
THE ONE-EYED MOON SEES ALL The one-eyed moon sees everything, it never goes to sleep, it watches all our happiness, and every tear we weep.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about 13 hours ago in Poets
THE BIRD THAT STOLE THE WIND
THE BIRD THAT STOLE THE WIND I saw a strange red bird today, It floated through my mind, It wore a coat of scarlet red And carried off the wind.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about 14 hours ago in Poets
THE TREE AT MY WINDOW
THE TREE AT MY WINDOW A tree came knocking at my glass, I asked it what it knew. It waved its leaves and whispered, “I’ve come to live with you.”
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about 14 hours ago in Poets
DOUGHNUTS IN MY HEAD
DOUGHNUTS IN MY HEAD Doughnuts in my head tonight, spinning round in yellow light, thoughts are dripping down the wall, I cannot catch them all.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about 23 hours ago in Poets
Popham in October
The beach is quieter now. Summer has slipped away like a gull lifting off without a sound. Only the steady pulse of the Atlantic remains, a heartbeat older than anything I know. I sit where the tide curls in, letting the cold sand hold me like an old friend.
By Syl De'Vilabout 23 hours ago in Poets
Where the Porch Lights Stay On
October is a town at the edge of Popham Beach where the porch lights come on early and stay lit long after the tide has fallen asleep.
By Syl De'Vilabout 23 hours ago in Poets
Hollow Beaches of Autumn
October is a place the dunes remember. They shift in the wind, whispering in old Wabanaki tongues as you cross their pale backs.
By Syl De'Vilabout 23 hours ago in Poets