art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Barren Forefathers
How empty, the restplace of our forefathers; How barren the very concepts that define them, these ancestors from times long past, yet here they were, living lives as complete as yours, with worries and silly dreams, loves tearing them apart and goals far out of reach; yet here they are, remains of remains, not scattered in the wind nay but stuck in place, as they lived their frantic little lives, of perils and passing bliss, rotting idly beneath the monolith of death, immortalizing the birth and demise of some whatever? Some frantic monkey, running in circle, mediocre, forgettable, nothingness, Goodbye!
By YonathanJ - Writer2 years ago in Poets
This is what is needed now
I have been gone for far too long I can feel it now ready to burst from me I've been held down by sorrow and anger depths of me hiding in darkness I can no longer dwell this way time is lapsing and I fear eventual I hold so much pain in my heart a ferocious cataclysm pending and only I can prevent such calamity so I'm searching inside for myself yelling my name down empty hallways wondering if I'm even still there lurking through the thick heavy fog wondering if I'm the same strong and brave a force of nature that stood 270 million years I pray this is the truth I pray I find a hero because that is what is needed now I've been the coward the sinner the beast I've been the Savior the teacher the diseased I've been everything except for what I need Like stepping blindly into your world not knowing whether you need to swim or walk or fly fate gives no direction to follow no encyclopedia to your dreams it simply unfolds before you like a carpet a thick velvet droll of space so I follow that carpet hoping to find myself at the end hoping I am capable of love and compassion hoping I'm willing to withstand this fight praying I haven't misplaced my honor or disheveled away what does remain of my heart like droves of rhododendrons I must return I must replenish more faithful and more vibrant than ever before I must forget the mortality that is enveloped my writhing soul the deaths and the grief to which follows I have to let go even if it means losing a part of myself with it like I'm smothered in the dead petals and leaves of yesteryear unable to gain air or light I will only wither so I tremble and shake and shiver till those ugly layers Nestle in my feet and I take my first step out and away from them new revived somehow whole again I pray this is truth because this is what is needed now.
By Rhashel Price2 years ago in Poets
