art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Tears
I spend far too much time pouring over things in my mind because the alternative is to just forget, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to wake and find the entries gone and lost like a plane to sea or a boat to air The many tears I cried over nothing That nothing was once something Or should I say someone, not nothing Many many are the tears I shed In grief, disbelief, and despair
By Paul Stewart9 months ago in Poets
Soul Visual
A jungle mind With lots of vines Ropes that swing and a bird that twittles a tune Art is my soul on a paper a page that you can flip to anytime Others can see small snippets but it's always in my mind Endless streams of water flow through valleys deep I dream in color pouring onto sheets A jungle mind With lots of vines Ropes that swing and a bird that twittles a tune I draw upon a canvas nothing that makes sense my brush strokes in it's own way I play along with it's game I swing from one end to reach the other side I sit upon the cliffs edge ready to dive down to the unknown creating without thinking direction is what speaks to me in the wind I don't make sharp plans I let it carry me like a tornado or some thing new to see what's in my mind a visual representation of my soul Can I see how deep I go? Do my mountains have peaks or do they plateau? A jungle mind With lots of vines Ropes that swing and a bird that twittles a tune
By Tanya Leij9 months ago in Poets
