art

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

  • Andrew Wallace
    Published 8 days ago
    Do Nothing

    Do Nothing

    Why do I do nothing?
  • Gtkitty
    Published 12 days ago
    Opposite reflection
  • M R Britton
    Published 19 days ago
    An Ink of Ravens

    An Ink of Ravens

    “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.” - Edgar Allan Poe - “The Raven”
  • Risa Todd
    Published 29 days ago
    Fear

    Fear

    What's your biggest fear?
  • Brett Rummel
    Published about a month ago
    The things I burn...

    The things I burn...

    The flame that burns on the candle is reminiscent of your Scorpio energy.
  • Victoria L-B
    Published about a month ago
    Mixed Medium Challenge - Items You've Collected
  • Apple
    Published about a month ago
    Prologue

    Prologue

    In grievous beginning, it was early June. The accidental sunlight sifting through the vines across the window lay dotted across her cheek and fell upon her sleepless eyelids. It was the only light in the room. The hour of night was rising- it was that time of morning when the sun hasn’t yet the courage to cross the horizon. To bring the world to life yet wouldn’t not be in its favour. Those asleep lament the waking, of course. And those awoken the sun would not dare taunt with garrulous colour, for there’s a silence in their eyes that would lament its breaking. She had been dreaming all night. Heretic, fervent dreams and hypothetical nightmares feeding into retroactive fearscapes and interrupted by horrible clouds of manic sanity which stole from her all hope of rest. The leaves on the window rustled again. Beamish sun drops shifted across the edges. A soft glow was beginning outside but the thick windowpane with its torrent overgrowth spared the light from seeing. Such brutish exposition would not be of their kind. How hurtful to suppose a clarity- no, she felt far too lonely for the taking. Instead a drop of light fell from an eyelash and swam inside her pupil. A dilated perspective could do her lots of good. But so as to refute the gesture, both eyes shut tightly at their seams. And so as to protect this transcendental quiet she slipped swiftly out of conscious. Yes, and she slept and slept, the whole day through.
  • Victoria L-B
    Published about a month ago
    Mixed Medium Project - Sunset
  • Victoria L-B
    Published about a month ago
    Mixed Medium Project - An Animal
  • Vic Probably
    Published 2 months ago
    Notes From A Simple Mind

    Notes From A Simple Mind

    …and then my brain broke and words started spilling out…
  • Dominika
    Published 2 months ago
    My hands don't reach for you anymore

    My hands don't reach for you anymore

    My hands don't reach for you anymore.
  • Dominika
    Published 2 months ago
    Relapsing into you

    Relapsing into you

    Relapsing into you