art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Ugly
Some people are ugly on the outside But beautiful inside Some are beautiful on the outside But ugly on the inside That’s the hardest
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in Poetswasteland
my heart is a wasteland open graves yawning chasms of empty bare trees where words used to be. i get lost wandering
Diddy or Did he?Dear, Sean Combs
Sean Combs, known in the hip hop community as one of the most influential pioneers and legends of the culture, is recognized for his involvement with the careers of Biggie Smalls, Faith Evans, Lil' Kim, and many more acts. He founded the record label Bad Boy Records in 1993, which housed many platinum-selling artists. His discerning ear for music and business acumen have garnered him numerous awards and financial gains.
Short Talk on being an Insomniac Dream Addict
I toss and turn under colourful covers, my attempts to rest peacefully under white noise ignored by stubborn human functions. I restlessly press my eyes together, desperately distracted by the stars that shoot across my mind; I cling to them, hoping they’ll fly me away. Instead, I examine them in the dark hours, delaying the drift. When the clocks pass to AM I’m still here, dreaming with eyes wide open. The other night I could not pull my gaze away from the image of singing a flowerful melody for packed bleachers and theatre seats. Wandering with the feelings of ecstatic excitement, I promptly sat up to write this piece.
Mya DoerksenPublished 6 months ago in PoetsShort Talk on my Reflection
I’ve discovered that time travel and the epitome of magic begins with our reflection, the tugging urge to press our fingertips against the clear glass and melt into another world. Were people as enchanted by rusted silver as we are with our bathroom fixtures? In the evening, I lock myself in the bathroom, when every sound is asleep. I gaze at the figure in mismatched pyjamas and flip a coin to decide whether to smile or cry. I fix my fingers through the folds of soft cheap fabric and impulsively clean the counters to procrastinate my bodily needs. Sometimes the anger boils so hot I come inches away from 7 years of bad luck. Instead, I splash the cold water over my many faces and fingers and decide it's time for bed.
Mya DoerksenPublished 6 months ago in Poets- Content Warning
Working Title: Fear
Why does being human hurt? Why is existing exhausting? I've never felt like this before. I've never felt like nothing before.
Mya DoerksenPublished 6 months ago in Poets You-2
When I’m with you Nothing No one else exists There is nothing more to resist But to stay here And exist In the moment
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in PoetsNo Moon No Love
Why ain't it a full moon It is dark and so cold where am I in the world Wish I can see you soon No moon to cast its silver dance
IdleWeb, Stark Winter
Right there, idling outside by my window, a spiderweb, frozen in the depths of winter the so very cold air waving it, up, and down. Hypnotic-
Festive Reverie
Festive Reverie Glowing lights cascade, Families entwined in warmth, Snowflakes twirl in joy, Within this feast of moments,
Printique StudiosPublished 6 months ago in PoetsThe Chase
Am I really living Or just enjoying the chase Everywhere Everyday I see her face But there’s no place for us here Because we’re surrounded by fear
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in PoetsMe
You don’t know me You didn’t hone me You don't own me So keep your stones from me Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
Atomic HistorianPublished 6 months ago in Poets