Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Oh rain come and search for me Come near me and wet me Don't play with my wounds and burn me Let me be proud of the sweetness of meanings
By Kisama Riyo 2 years ago in Poets
Cross my heart as stars paint the night sky, each vow bright, a spark divine, whispered truths that bind us close, etched in time’s quiet space.
By Printique Studios2 years ago in Poets
Snow drapes the ground in blankets soft and white, As rooftops glow with twinkling, gentle cheer. The world is hushed beneath this silver light,
This is the time when dreams are born, As the days melt away, Crafting paintings that cannot be erased. Letters that are written from the eyes,
By Malleswari2 years ago in Poets
Suddenly, my breath stops. I can't find my way when I see you like this. Your thoughts bind me like chains, All my endless dreams have vanished.
Heartfully, our hearts parted ways. Uncertain if it's a misstep or misunderstanding, yet it culminates in a breakup. Separation lingers in a tale not inscribed by fate.
There once was a martyr named Jones, Lost in a forest filled with pinecones. His release would suffice, With a few, small, sacrifice,
By Amos Glade2 years ago in Poets
With eyes wide open Fertile Mother Nature Witch Grant independence
The busy little honeybee may seem bumbling and a little carefree with willpower and strict ambition, and nine thousand nine hundred
Watercolors He paints pigment in between the cracks Where the spaces of your life leave room And open wounds. The paint fills the shallow divots with an intense red,
By Bria Lamonica2 years ago in Poets
The melodies of this violin No longer produce melodies? In my soul and being I can no longer speak? And the flower, how beautiful is the place
At the horizon, where soil and sky meet, In love, where you and I fuse together. In the illusion of ourselves, a world unfolds,
