art

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

i hold the matches
memories behind plywood, broken glass, and chain-link a cage, to define what is inside relative to the world providing certainty and detailed meaning
By ⸘jason alan‽about a year ago in Poets
Be Loyal to Your Future, Not Your Past
“The Bag I Carried” For years, I carried a bag I didn’t realize was heavy. It wasn’t leather or canvas or anything physical. It was invisible, but I felt it every day—a weight on my shoulders, a shadow over my decisions. It was full of memories, mistakes, regrets, what-ifs, and a voice that always whispered, “But that’s who you’ve always been.”
By lony banzaabout a year ago in Poets
The News I Can't Talk About
We're being led like sheep to our slaughter And I already grieve for my sons and my daughter They're fated as casualties in this one-sided war
By Sam Spinelliabout a year ago in Poets
The role of role-playing
believing our-selves to be exceptionally kind to them while expecting them to be absolutely mean and unfair towards, these painful imaginations causes for imagination to imagine pictures and create thoughts at the center of which is a picture of self-pity, of being downtrodden, of needing care or of being special or thinking of oneself as"different"; a completely different and unique individual/human being that needs to be making special and interesting decisions and intelligence must be entirely absent from them
By Queen fabout a year ago in Poets
A Love
I did not fall— I arrived, like dusk when no one notices the light leaving until everything’s glowing. You didn’t ask for pieces—
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
Shadow of Goodbye
Streetlight casts A shadow on the walk Is that me down there? Outlined in the chalk? Where was I going? I really don't recall
By Raine Fielderabout a year ago in Poets
MADE IT OUT
I’m a human just like you See you’re stuck…. Like a glue See the problem that you’re having…. Work It out I’ll give a clue
By Haychie_Artistabout a year ago in Poets
Explore Art, Feel Better
Even as a kid, as if I already knew, life can be hard without a way to make it enjoyable or tolerable. So, I sought solutions,
By Seema Patelabout a year ago in Poets
Bruised Blossoms
My anxiety demands that you abuse me, It demands that you lie to me I am triggered by love and care, I no longer remember what it feels to be truly loved
By Isaac Ramaphalaabout a year ago in Poets
A Love That Learns
I did not fall— I arrived, like dusk when no one notices the light leaving until everything’s glowing. You didn’t ask for pieces—
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
Just. Content Warning.
I’m sick of people telling me to get over it. I’m sick of people putting a time limit on grief. Who gave you the right? Who says you get to tell me what my pain is worth and how long I get to feel it?
By Dylan-Quinn Harrisabout a year ago in Poets
Semantic Satiation & Other Fatal Ejaculations. Top Story - July 2025.
this. Why do the linguistic seeds I plant Isn't. flower into blooms of deep thought an. when sometimes, just sometimes acrostic. I want to laugh at the insanity and ridiculous
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets