art

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

Love's Plight
Across tranquil waters, rises a sound Enchantment echoes, lifts, abounds Melodic fate reverberates, fulfills the night In symphonies triumphant of love’s plight
By Cindy Calder2 years ago in Poets
Outgrown
I used to be enough for you In the beginning I was everything you needed I cradled you tightly And kept you safe But all my love did
By A. J. Schoenfeld2 years ago in Poets
What is Life?
Living it Intensity of you to enjoy it.
By Mark Graham2 years ago in Poets
An Exchange of Bullets
Mandated by God to break His commandment Your empire shattered ours with bullets Breaking your Golden Rule, You cracked our souls with opium
By Sean A.2 years ago in Poets
Homer and Virgil: The Poets Who Shaped the Epic Tradition
Homer: The Foundation of Western Epic Poetry Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey are often regarded as the cornerstones of Western literature. These poems, composed in dactylic hexameter, were passed down orally before being written down, marking the beginning of a literary tradition that would shape the epic form for millennia.
By Mr Ali2 years ago in Poets
Death
Dying to elicit and elaborate on allowing oneself to reach new heights.
By Mark Graham2 years ago in Poets
part of the legacy
If you saw my most recent post... We were always art. - Now that formalities are out of the way red it's time to cause a little havoc
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
My Vintage Window
The Woman at the Window. Artist: Carl Holsøe Fingers twirling around my memories To see how fate spins its details --
By Wail Fekhr Elislam Saadna2 years ago in Poets
Torch Bearers-II
Part-II [1]. A story is told of Guru Nanak that, in the course of his travels, he came to a village. Besides him, his disciple, Mardana, also came to the village. They wanted to stay there for the night. But the villagers were rude and inhospitable, and would not let them stay anywhere in the village. So Guru Nanak and mardana were forced to spend the night in the open. As they turned away from the village, guru nanak said “I pray that the people of this village may always stay in this village.” Mardana was somewhat puzzled at this, but said nothing.
By EduScript 2 years ago in Poets
Timeless Reflections
Morning mist softens, wild blooms rise where footsteps fade, the sun knows no age.
By Printique Studios2 years ago in Poets
Cold tea
Okay, so my tea's gone cold. As these thoughts unfold. Razor blade tears on the page. Twisted lyrical rage. Therapy is the ink in my pen.
By Edina Jackson-Yussif --personal growth 2 years ago in Poets
The Alchemy of Presence
Ordinary becomes sacred When witnessed completely The coffee mug's steam A universe of transformation Microscopic dance of heat and intention
By Edina Jackson-Yussif --personal growth 2 years ago in Poets