art

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

Unfulfillment 101
Anna looked at her reflection in the black, blank screen of her phone, wondering what became of the girl she was before.
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
The Black Story
“Do you know who I am? Or From where I come?“ The quote from Afeni Shakur shook me to my core That’s my power That’s my strength
By Moni Staxxabout a year ago in Poets
The Goddess Awakens
She calls the wind In unknown tongues Melodies dance resonant Molecular Quantum invisible Mysteries weave ancient fury
By Suzy Jacobson Cherryabout a year ago in Poets
HEX TO HACKERS. Content Warning.
Guys, I created this today on my cell and my older because I am hardheaded and too old for this shit. Whoever dd this wanted to shut me down. I need my other bread and butter to my social security. Excuse the language, but hey, I am being nice compared to what I wanted to say. PEACE OUT!
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
The First Anchor
Lead—responsibility without constant reward is a challenge accepted at birth. The pillars, tasked with breaking and rebuilding each curse of life with bare hands.
By Marcus Hillabout a year ago in Poets
In order to breathe
A hundred skeins of yarn Unraveling in a quiet orchestra of colors haunting maroons, deep blues, muted pinks burning browns, feathered yellows…
By Michele Nampalliabout a year ago in Poets
Alanna in Bloom
Alanna in Bloom She wears her curls like morning sun, a laugh tucked gently in her sleeve. The world leans in to hear her hum,
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
My One Outlet
Vessel of detail and determination. Nestle into a quality state of quandary and cattywampus hesitation. Hundreds of eyes and hands, they reach for me.
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Poets
Staircases
Who made her With grim irony Not a ghost Pulse frozen a glitchy mess Crawling Memory Freak out It wasn’t perfect That corner back when
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Poets
She walks in beauty, like the night…
She walks in beauty, like the night… The street is empty, but she carries the weight of a thousand silent eyes. The kind of beauty you don’t notice all at once,
By अkriति Chaड़kabout a year ago in Poets
Existential
Why am I here? It’s simple enough to distill such thoughts into a Sartrian debate But presently I prefer to pass on such human interactions
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Poets
When Her Shadow
She said my name like it wasn’t broken. Not a rescue, but a recognition, the way an old song finds you just before you forget what silence feels like.
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets