Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Breathe in— the morning is soft, and the light moves slow through open hands of green and gold. Breathe out— the earth exhales with you.
By Printique Studiosabout a year ago in Poets
Use Your Words Words matter They hurt, they sooth They lie and they reveal What are your words Where do they come from
By Erin Mabout a year ago in Poets
It's tough for strays to make a living, what with having tocompete for food and human affection From the moment of conception, life is a battle
By TheNaethabout a year ago in Poets
We are all made of stars hippy sentiments, truth glittering sparks of creativity and life light up the world burn brighter than
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
People's intelligence is always the same Do you know this feeling? I don't know People just want to stay poor They just look down on you
Before sunrise, the forest hums, dawn’s breath pulling each branch awake with silent strings of light. Birdsong bursts—bright fragments
Long gone, you’ve left but showed me the truth The mirror can’t lie through my eyes I see you And no matter how close we were to the stars
By LyanSty34about a year ago in Poets
I chiseled away at my marble, chipping off the faults they proclaimed, carving the weird, the unworthy, leaving veins of 'truth'
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
Some leave like smoke— vanishing mid-sentence, their footprints barely bruising the ground. Others linger— in the scent of old rain,
I met you on a Sunday when the rain forgot how to fall straight— sideways, like fate unsure of its own intent, and your smile cracked something
I. The City Sleeps with One Eye Open The city hunches like a drunk in the alley, coughing neon into puddles, its breath thick with secrets and gin.
By Esther Sunabout a year ago in Poets
