art

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

STEVEN BARTLETT
Confident like Steven Bartlett Not a Thatcher like a Margaret Hoping one day comes the joy Wrote a Story with the Toy (Toy Story)
By Haychie_Artist10 months ago in Poets
VILLANELLE — Echoes of Regret
I regret not speaking to you when I had the chance My mind returns to you though you’re no longer near I long for the days when our voices could still embrace
By José Juan Gutierrez 10 months ago in Poets
The Road to Love
At the end of the road I found love My soulmate, the joy I’d been longing for One woman whom I’ve come to dream of I lift up my eyes to the heavens above
By José Juan Gutierrez 10 months ago in Poets
The Eye of the Branches
The Eye of the Branches The eye looked out through living wood, Its gaze both endless, calm, and near, It saw the secrets buried deep,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 10 months ago in Poets
Where My Heart Runs
I start with the truth sitting bold in my chest, the kind that refuses to stay quiet— you move through my thoughts like a warm breeze that knows exactly
By Printique Studios10 months ago in Poets
Full Moon Fever
Full Moon Fever “Lorik Sancti Sy, The Holy Flame of Freedom” Artguru Full moon fever got me going, got me singing, got me glowing.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 10 months ago in Poets
The Loverʻs Paradox
Like a slumbering flame awakening into breath A yearning stirs, raw yet tenderly, and consumes the lover For love melts the boundaries lingering close to death
By Pōlani Monderen 10 months ago in Poets
W e Of L ike F etish
It is a small offering, absurd in the scale of its appetite, yet the fire loves permission, however small; free to rise from its ashen wreath at a time of its choosing, it wants justification for the hunger of its being. An excuse to devour, untamed.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher10 months ago in Poets
“Branches Are Veins, Roots Are Flame”
Roots Ground Me “Branches Are Veins, Roots Are Flame” Gemini by Vicki Lawana Trusselli Roots in Choctaw soil, steady as care, deep as memory.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 10 months ago in Poets
Pyrovia: inside me
inside: Pyrovia the catastrophic blistering, angry pyre that built me up Now, it is lit high up inside of my mouth instead of in my gut
By Melissa Ingoldsby10 months ago in Poets
The Foretold
Searching for another dimension, to escape this paradoxical world. I lived once and tried to escape, and received another attempt at life.
By Lucripa10 months ago in Poets
3Dimension
In this paradoxical world, everything is created by mathematics. Its generated by numbers This soul is trapped in a 3D body.
By Lucripa10 months ago in Poets