art

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

Elk Antler Arches
I like art and craft, especially when they are made, with natural things. It’s honoring the earth, to use what nature offers,
By Seema Patelabout a year ago in Poets
Gravity
I knew it was you when the silence bent just slightly— not loud, not grand, but as if the air remembered how we once breathed it together.
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
Dance Like God is Watching
I would never dare to Move my body In the disrespectful Reserved tipsy way One might If you embarrassingly Pretended People weren’t watching
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Poets
POEM - Sensory & Concrete
Not just the grit beneath the nail After the trowel scrapes the pail, Nor just the chill of morning dew On poured-slab surfaces, slate-blue
By Jacky Kapadiaabout a year ago in Poets
Audience
Places marked with x’s in tape, Hearts beat as we take our spots, Muttered tempos, nervous hands, Counting down the seconds.
By M. A. Mehan about a year ago in Poets
Stronger Every Day
Wake up early, feel the air, Tie your shoes with love and care. Step by step, no need to race, Just find your rhythm, set your pace. Breathe in deep, let worries go, Feel the power start to grow. A walk, a run, a simple move, Your body finds its natural groove. No heavy gym or noisy crowd, Just heartbeat strong and spirit proud. Push-ups, stretches, steps that burn, With every drop, new strength you earn. Some days slow and some days fast, But every effort builds your path. Muscles firm and mind so clear, Confidence replaces fear. Eat with balance, drink with grace, Let clean habits take their place. Rest when needed, sleep on time, Health and peace begin to rhyme. Fitness isn't just a trend, It's the message you send your friend: “I love my life, I love this way, I'm growing stronger every day.” So don’t give up, don’t feel small, Even small steps count them all. The journey’s long but worth the ride, With strength and pride, you walk beside.
By Mr Khanabout a year ago in Poets
when we're young or sad or desperate
When we’re young or sad or desperate (regardless of the reason ), we tend to see other people as absolutes (which is sort of way of assuming we know everything there can ever be about a person and nobody can convince us otherwise, not even them); we imagine them to know exactly how to fix us .
By Queen fabout a year ago in Poets
Como Desaparecer Sem Deixar Vestígios. Content Warning.
First, be born. Into the world through a portal of broken ambition. To a mother who never fully lived a free life— Because the abuse began with her.
By Suburban_Disturbanceabout a year ago in Poets
THE DREAM OF ODYSSEY
This chapter wasn’t planned: it was remembered. Rediscovered, like a lost track humming beneath the static. Sweetie Bird speaks again, not in dialogue but in echo. Her voice, layered and pulsing through forgotten software and half-lit memories, becomes the heartbeat of this cinematic interlude.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
"LOVE IN REALITY"
“Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” Ali MacGraw says to Ryan O’Neal in the 1970 movie Love Story. In the final scene, O’Neal repeats the line. It’s good cinema.
By Rayyan Joseph about a year ago in Poets
The Fire Inside the Statue
They say the statue in the old courtyard was sculpted by a man who had once loved a goddess. Not just any goddess, but a spirit of fire—brilliant, wild, and wholly untamable. The statue was his offering, a way to keep her close, even after her light had disappeared from the world.
By Abuzar khanabout a year ago in Poets
Life Cycle of a Storm Cloud
It was young Life was steamy Condensed into a cloud That cloud, Young and dreamy, Never dreamt much out loud It let it build up
By Amos Gladeabout a year ago in Poets