art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
The Smell of His Hands After Rain
It starts with the hands. Always the hands. Not the face—I tried to forget the face, and mostly succeeded. The eyes were the second thing to go, then the voice, then the particular way he laughed at his own jokes, waiting for you to join in. I let them dissolve in the ordinary way of things, the way sugar forgets it was once a cane, the way water forgets the cloud.
By Muhammad Sabeel4 months ago in Poets
Winds of Change
INTRODUCTION I wrote this poem after a long stretch of years that changed me in ways I never expected. COVID, kidney disease, surgery, almost dying, all of it reshaped my body, my voice, and the way I move through the world. I’m not the same woman I was before 2022, and I don’t pretend to be.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 4 months ago in Poets
Piers to Infinity
I found this photo in my archives. This photo was taken 2014 in Fulton, Texas. Living there was a duality of inequality. The photo was taken with my Canon Rebel. Politics is very dark in Texas. I only found light at the ocean with the birds and photography. As an empath this was my favorite spot to meditate, breathe, and sigh about how beautiful this scenario was that day I took the photo. I am away from their politics but the ugliness of oil pollution on the beaches on Corpus Christie was devastating. Why do people value the dollar more than beauty? I remember the day I shot this photo. Peace, love, and understanding are important but today's environment is nasty towards truth and beauty. I choose the light. This Cali girl will not leave California.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 4 months ago in Poets
A Window Facing Tomorrow
This ghazal is a meditation on renewal and anticipation. Set at the threshold of dawn, it explores how hope survives even after long periods of waiting. The beloved becomes a symbol of awakening, guiding the heart from darkness toward light.
By Rahatweb Website4 months ago in Poets
