Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Dissonance is the sound of our home. Joyous symphonies fall apart, Orchestrated by broke hearts. Miscommunications, Turn to horrid verse.
By Michaela Mewherter2 years ago in Poets
Forest Floor Dreams: A Poetic Exploration of Nature's Understory In the shadow of the towering oaks, where sunlight softly gleams,
By inspirational poems 2 years ago in Poets
the way that you move is intricate quite frankly, it’s da Vinci-esque knew it would be my demise took a seat way up high
By D2 years ago in Poets
if it returns it was meant to be how many days void that cliché? adages as old as time tell me they've been there too just grin and bare it
when i tell you that i’m doing fine i hope you know that is a lie no need to share what’s inside better to let it slide learned that trick from you
bright-eyed promises proved gossamer nightly romance became missed calls dandelion hopes flew by thanksgiving wishbones failed
had to find another ice cream spot no more breakfast at cheap diners cannot wear that shirt again eyes ignore black sedans
Two sugars, one cream, you haven't changed but I take my coffee black since December twenty-seventh and in spite of it all
I can’t allow myself to be alone… throughout my whole life I have always needed to be with someone when I’m by myself my mind runs rapid
By Elise Chaput2 years ago in Poets
Beneath a vile oppression Through my congenital self-inflicted Wounded progression Lies a burial introspection like An obutual documented earthborn Resident. Transitioning from a materialistic Parable ot a dehumanized humanlike Animal. A mind of a computer recording recordings of its own dysfunctional dilemma From the absence on earth To an agonizing environment, stranded with stagnant backward moving abysmal circumstances. The soul utters diversity of pain while the heart categorizes its measurement against it. The contraction of our sentimental rivalry Slowly starts to hallucinate death as a friendly confinement. I am my own source of pain infused by underlying factors contributing to the adinfinite thoughts that refuse their retirement. It's a series of traffic congested tragedies, overpopulating the limitless capital expansion of graveyards. Tears fall unseen I've internally bled the existence of life that I've carried out onto the objective world. Internal jeopardy of crucifying the good to reincarnate the evil I'm a shadow walking behind the empty shell of my corpse, parading evidently the dying sunset. The rearrangement of destiny to its final destination, another hell debating Melancholy. Melodic blues are reigning tunes piercing through the sky, pregnant with darkness giving birth to fallen angels.
By Irvin 2 years ago in Poets
I want the good the bad the ugly just to experience it all with somebody everyone I know says wow you’ve changed but I think I’ve always felt this way
Title: Green Sanctuary: A Poetic Refuge in the Forest In the heart where the wild whispers grow, A haven lies where rivers gently flow.
