art

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

The Nonsensical Nature of 5
Sound, asleep, breathes low, breathes deep - a rumbling breaks through his chest; gentle sighs morph into gargled snores, a melody of his tumultuous rest.
By em2 years ago in Poets
A bright future
Seeing with eyes unclouded, the bright light, pushing through the fog, Closing my ears off to the hissing words of doubt, Smelling the fragrance of nature, of the fresh rain in the woods,
By Just Daniel2 years ago in Poets
The Good Moments…
I’ll just hold on to the good moments the precious moments that passed between us. They were real. There is no reason why they couldn’t be. The ending does not dictate the journey. The journey is the journey no matter how it ends. Had it not happened this way would the journey be different? Would I be questioning its validity? The clear answer is no. So I won’t question it now. I’ll hold on to those precious moments and the moments in between. They were real..
By LiciaEmber2 years ago in Poets
On healing in gallant echoes
I ponder over the hues of the zealous beauty of the sky, In the yonder of nothingness, time in its mirth passes by. The heavens and the earth, the kindness and the ugliness both coincide with their fate,
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
A KINGDOM DIVIDED.. Content Warning.
Spiritual warfare we’ve long fought, Since ancient times, from traditions birthed deep in the soil, When our ancestors bowed to gods of clay and fire.
By Marvelous Michael2 years ago in Poets
Time Travel Café
**Time Travel Café** Step inside, the clock rewinds, In this café, where time unwinds. Sip your coffee, close your eyes,
By Danny Prem kumar2 years ago in Poets
Dreams of an Urban Garden
**Dreams of an Urban Garden** Amid the city's constant hum, A quiet dream begins to come. Of green retreats in hidden spaces,
By Danny Prem kumar2 years ago in Poets
Forgotten Letters
**Forgotten Letters** In dusty drawers they quietly rest, Old letters folded, once addressed. The ink has faded, worn with time,
By Danny Prem kumar2 years ago in Poets
"TELL ME IT'S SO". Content Warning.
"TELL ME IT'S SO" "ALONG THE WAY" I find myself feeling guilty at 75, because I am not working full time in a regular gig as society has crammed work ‘til you die down our throats. The economy is designed for working stiffs and the powers that have created we work ‘til we die then just throw us away. So tired of Elons, Jeffs, etc. etc. I am fed up. Yes, it is my concern because if I do not say anything with my background and education, then my blood pressure goes 'way high. Unfortunately, the ultra-ultra rich do not care and if democracy does not win, we are going away on the trains, and it will not be the subway. Truth. No conspiracy theories. My body is not a political pawn. We must speak up. My friend refuses to talk about anything about our bodies and regular mundane everyday living because the orange buffoon makes tying one’s shoelaces a big crime. So, knock these Nazis out. Yes, they are Nazis. I do not bury my head in sand.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 years ago in Poets
Whispers of the Ocean Breeze
**Whispers of the Ocean Breeze** The ocean whispers soft and low, A song that only waves can know. It carries tales from distant shores,
By Danny Prem kumar2 years ago in Poets
A Night Beneath the Stars
**A Night Beneath the Stars** Beneath the stars, the night unfolds, A canvas vast, of dreams untold. The sky adorned in diamond light,
By Danny Prem kumar2 years ago in Poets
The Dance of Shadows
**The Dance of Shadows** Beneath the sun’s soft golden glow, The shadows dance, they twist and grow. In every flicker, every sway,
By Danny Prem kumar2 years ago in Poets