art

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

Love is a burning fire
Love is a burning fire that grows until it becomes harmony. Let it The Art of Endless Love: A Journey Through Dreams, Hearts, and
By Emmanuele10 months ago in Poets
Burnout
I wasn’t lazy. I was tired of surviving. Not tired of the day-to-day, but tired of the weight that comes from never truly living, only holding on.
By Jhon smith10 months ago in Poets
YELLOW-PINK VOLTAGE
I am arriving here with a quiet mind and an open heart, letting the day unfold without rushing. This entry is part reflection, part creation, part pulse a small moment to breathe and reconnect. Trusselli Art dedicates this piece of the archive to freedom lovers, & lovers of peace, democracy & equality.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 10 months ago in Poets
My Darker Side
There's another side to me Something you'll have yet to see You might think I'm nice But sometimes I'm colder than ice I say things I don't mean
By Domi10 months ago in Poets
The Velvet Stillness
The world exhales a hushed, white breath, unseen, unheard, As velvet curtains draw across the sleeping street. Each fragile flake, a silent, whispered word,
By The 9x Fawdi10 months ago in Poets
Velvet Hush
The world exhales a silent, frozen breath, As downy architects of hush descend. Each flake, a tiny ghost, a whispered death
By The 9x Fawdi10 months ago in Poets
Beyond the Fading Light
The platform chills, a breath of frozen sigh, The iron beast, a shadow in the sky Of twilight's hush, its final whistle keen,
By The 9x Fawdi10 months ago in Poets
Let's Cultivate Plant Love
I go on my daily stroll with mindfulness lens on. I notice everything— the plants, with their seasonal looks, fallen leaves, seasonal berries.
By Seema Patel10 months ago in Poets
Street Art
I saw art today. The beauty circulated blood that had clotted.
By Jada Ferguson10 months ago in Poets
Ailey
Revelations it was. Igniting ancestral planes, thawing black ice.
By Jada Ferguson10 months ago in Poets
Chrysogonus
God does not write to me, no He does not write… ✨ Too far, too far, is the book, written, done; no he does not write to me in
By Diana10 months ago in Poets
Enter Center Stage. Top Story - December 2025.
Striking silhouette black and white Like catching a forbidden glimpse of fairy flight Murmuring lights momentarily dim
By K.B. Silver 10 months ago in Poets