art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Nourish the Mind in Peace and Love
Nourish the Mind in Peace and Love Nourish the mind with thoughts that bloom like morning dew, Allowing hope to gently grow in everything you do. The seeds we plant within ourselves determine what will rise, Whether gardens filled with joy or sorrow in disguise.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 months ago in Poets
Perdendosi
The house lights come up No curtain call each Maestro and Maestra Lets their baton fall The halls lay empty The balconies stilled “The clarinet is useless!” “It won’t pay the bills!” Horde by horde The choruses chant No rhythm, no rhyme An ignorant lament They sing their verses In boardrooms and bailiwicks Aeolian scales Corrupted, sycophantic One by one The students depart Until the second chair’s Bereft a beating heart The house lights come up The curtain falls But no soul attends This evenings ball Concert halls closed The microphone falls Leaving naught but static’s Lonely echoed call
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Poets
The Telltale Signs . Runner-Up in Static Challenge.
I've been thinking a lot about how static builds a charge within us when we caress or rub certain fabrics and materials, how it builds and builds silently, subtly, without warning unless you see those telltale signs: the flicks of hairs standing on end, dancing dust particles.
By Paul Stewart2 months ago in Poets
