art

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

10/12/24
Water running as my mind wonders And ponders Every word A scourge on my soul
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
You-15
Ephemeral thoughts clot my brain A primordial ooze brought on by an onslaught A stain of neurons pooling But who am I fooling
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
A day of loyalty
Can I steal your heart? Can we begin from the very start? Can you spare some time from your life, So that with you I could feel at least one day alive?
By Eiman Asif2 years ago in Poets
Broken Verses
The Last Goodbye In the stillness of the night, A whisper soft, a fading light, Your voice, it lingers in the air, A final word, a silent prayer.
By Sazeeb Chowdury2 years ago in Poets
Eternal Embrace
Sonnet I: The First Glance Upon the meadow’s edge, where blooms are bright, I first did see thee, radiant as dawn, Thy gaze did weave a spell of pure delight, And in that moment, all my doubts were gone.
By Sazeeb Chowdury2 years ago in Poets
Silent Cries
Echoes of an Empty Room In the hollow chambers of my mind, Echoes of whispers, once so kind, Now linger like a fading song, In the silence where you belong.
By Sazeeb Chowdury2 years ago in Poets
"CONFUSIONS OF REALITIES". Content Warning.
I LOOK AT THE NEWS I LOOK AT THE CONFUSION OF REALITIES OF THE BLUES OF THE NEWS PEOPLE HATE, THROW SLURS OF THEIR BLURS
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 years ago in Poets
Drowning
Nobody tells you that when you're drowning, You learn how to tread water. -I learned to breathe under water Chloe Rose Violet🌹
By Chloe Unfiltered2 years ago in Poets
Haunted House
The creeping of the ceiling The floors chill to the touch Footprints appearing in place you know you’re never walked The whispers and chills creeping up your spine
By Thomas Terry2 years ago in Poets
Chapter 3: Dream Insanity. Content Warning.
The Continued Story… Dear Diary, I masturbate to the sound of his voice in my head(whispers come here, relax, just let it happen), touch of his hand in between my thighs, to the feel of his rough fingers thrusting inside of me... the way he silently watches how he pleasures me... fills my senses to its core... I can't stand it…
By LiciaEmber2 years ago in Poets
Whispers of Silence
Silence might be the voice of its own, Even the quiet could be echoing, this too could happen. My past, separated from me, who knows in what state it is,
By kainat 2 years ago in Poets
Butterfly Effect
Butterfly, just an insect, For many of us, But since 1962, Anymore, It was not that kind of, An accidental word, And was a scientific discovery,
By Esala Gunathilake2 years ago in Poets