art

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

Cotton Tree - Sierra Leone
The Tree That Saw It All. Andrew Benson Greene COTTON TREE (Poem Written as part of Andrew Benson Greene’s Collection of Poems entitled (The Peace Pole)
By Andrew Benson Greene4 months ago in Poets
Empty
light on a string, street looking mean, pop, balloons, salons, and saloons, eyes, looking, seeing, being, lurking, not okay,
By Gambit4 months ago in Poets
The Final Trial
Black suits and ties, white shirts, hazy stares Stay still, don't panic, hear what you must bear. * * * The Trial proceeds, the board evaluates:
By George Roast4 months ago in Poets
The Taneeshiad
O mother of all wisdom let my pen write the tale of when the world was chaotic and lacking of heroes and a monster made of metal and the source of all plenty as it’s blood was born in the world’s water.
By Eldvar4 months ago in Poets
THUNDER....
𒐕- Lyrically sign, atone / atom / Adam a cracked apple bleeds its proof: sweetness first, then the settling truth. If it was ever worth the devil, stand and wrestle. When the storm remembers you, I arrive as thunder each letter a black sheet slowly settling.Heavy strike a divine edge through time you divide in a minute.After what remains of you learns the shape of absence. I define nothing.If I were something, I would speak once zip the one, and force it into None. None / All the pillar stands.
By LUCCIAN LAYTH4 months ago in Poets
The Naming of What Remains
As June was in full bloom The bridge between spring And summer Offers brighter skies And warmer climes We two sat Companions
By Paul Stewart4 months ago in Poets
imperfect vision
chart a course for i am the change in the wind a decision not made on a whim victory and success are coming in and the higher i sore
By ⸘jason alan‽4 months ago in Poets
Dissolving Banks of Time
Deaths harsh, cold water bites my bone. It’s grasp makes no sound when the oar strikes the crown my pulse quiets, stiffens, falls silent
By K.H. Obergfoll4 months ago in Poets
Where Silver Drops
One coin for passages oar, one soul for the boat to floatsink me until the warm water runs cold and wait for his grasp—for the reeds never tire, as death surely outlastsour one true expire.
By K.H. Obergfoll4 months ago in Poets
Beginning/End
We are but a single brush stroke Painted upon the canvas of time We start out bright and vibrant But end in dust and grime
By Edward Val4 months ago in Poets
Luminous Loitering
Vase loiters, lonely. But wait: your purple friend sits a few steps away. Copyright © 6/1/2026 by Andrea O. Corwin Thanks for stopping by! 😃 If you like ♡ my scribbles, hit the subscribe button. Please consider leaving a comment. ✍️❤️
By Andrea Corwin 4 months ago in Poets
The burning one
Being at the top of the list can give you grand ideas They can be amazing for ones And horribles to others But in the end wanted to share to everyone
By Lucripa4 months ago in Poets