Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Her response imprinted on my memory: A quick oh no face followed by "Just don't bring down the room..." I had just answered "poetry!" to the question posed: Are you performing anything at the open mic?
By Samie Jo Johnson9 years ago in Poets
There's a man sat upon a counter, staring into space. Look closely and you see an empty expression on his face. After the light is switched off and door locked, he'll begin to breathe.
By Paul Crocker9 years ago in Poets
In the night, as you sleep. You may hear a rhythmic creek. But don't get up for heaven's sake. You don't understand the trouble you'll make.
I'm always chasing the ultimate high A fix to entice of my own design Like demons creeping through the night To steal the shadows and hex the souls
By Lacey Burke9 years ago in Poets
You open your mouth to judge me Loading your words like Military grade rifles Taking aim at my insecurities And I know You want to hurt me
By Daniel L. Chapman III, M.Sc. - The Bridge Theory Project9 years ago in Poets
Poems presented are by Megan Ashley. When The Sun Fades When the sun goes down and the night arrives And I see dark shadows when I close my eyes,
By Megan Goff9 years ago in Poets
I know what's making us distant, pain is that love is missing I guess at times I was tripping Overwhelmed from your bitching about me fucking with women,
By clarkspittah9 years ago in Poets
Unwrap my heart carefully Lay it bare so you can see Its deepest yearnings Its losses, its longings Unwrap my heart Perhaps start at the edge?
By Abellona T9 years ago in Poets
He had always hated, The call of the dark, A wind howled through the trees, He heard wild dogs bark. But ‘twas not just the hounds,
I see darkness then every little second I see flashes of light off in the distances. The flashes start coming faster and faster like the speed of a passing train. I could see shadows of shapes, but the picture was foggy like a blurred camera lens. Then just like that, I am standing in a field. It’s endless with grass, but the grass is burned as if a fire had just swallowed and spit it out. The skies were dark and depressing with strikes of lighting wrapping around it as if it was holding the sunlight captive.
By Mary Bee9 years ago in Poets
In the window of a tower in the midst of a dark wood, A flaxen maned maiden stands where once a poet stood. At the bottom of her tower, with a rose clasped in his jaw
By Fred Bobbitt9 years ago in Poets
As silver tipped tears rippled upon her face, And Fall into the river of subspace. Her mind, Her soul Her thoughts out of place
By shaquille barzey9 years ago in Poets
