art

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

I Don’t Know That Girl
I don’t know that girl; with her future planned all out; A degree, a husband; kids, and success She had no other route. I don’t know that girl;
By Alaine Hay2 months ago in Poets
I Can Be Your Meditation
I can be your water, your peace, your long-term relief I can be your inner deep lake where you can just rest and take I can be your blue sky without clouds, just the sun
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda 2 months ago in Poets
Why I Want to Learn to Read My Poetry Aloud (And Why You Should Too). Top Story - August 2026.
Right. Before we begin, I’m gonna have to warn you. The following video contains me, sitting in my garden, reading aloud a poem I wrote this very morning while my girlfriend (aka trusty online-pimp/videographer) filmed from behind.
By Arthur Pendry2 months ago in Poets
JUST LIKE MAMA SAID
By Marie381uk 2026 JUST LIKE MAMA SAID My mama always told me, To listen to my heart, She said when something feels wrong, You should know when to part.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
What a dick!
What a dick! Standing naked on the shore Sure to be getting wet In an hour or so As the tide rolls in What a dick! Does it not prick your conscience
By Raymond G Taylor2 months ago in Poets
Unrecognizable . Top Story - August 2026.
A bird does not know itself. All it knows is that it flies above To the clouds. It does not know how many beings crave To be weightless like it.
By Rachael Anra2 months ago in Poets
Fanciful Flowers
Oh fanciful flowers, How are you even real? Sea holly for the summer When there is no red for winter. A flower like a starfish
By Seashell Harpspring 2 months ago in Poets
I wonder if
I wonder if the stars align because it’s right between me and you. I wonder if I’m doing alright even with all the rain outside.
By Cerina Galvan2 months ago in Poets
The Waking
Wake up. Drink a tall glass of water with ice and lemon And reach your arms above your head. Notice your belly go soft as you inhale
By E. B. Rowland2 months ago in Poets
Hockney the cockney. Top Story - August 2026.
David Hockney Not a cockney A Yorkshire Bradford man Came to London To study art Left a painter man David loved his iPhone
By Raymond G Taylor2 months ago in Poets
Might as Well Try in the Dark
Consider this me reaching out, socially, love means doubt. Now that I know why that always was, being led by a path away from you...all hurts. Never
By Willem Indigo2 months ago in Poets
Unwell Hearts, Absent Heads
We are the c a n a r i e s of the psych ward, curled up on futons (we sewed together) fingertips touching, knife of the hand
By Silver Daux2 months ago in Poets