art

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

Cake
I Dropped my spoon So I barbarically picked up the last part of the cream cake with my fingers Biting into it, it felt like a concentrated slice of the sun exploding in my mouth
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 months ago in Poets
Elemental.
From Earth I rose, and so I stand. I am sea, stone, sand—and the spiraling journey between. My body is memoir, muse, and museum; a rubix cube of life’s timelessness.
By JCC5 months ago in Poets
Idea
Do not let your voice remain unheard Nor your thoughts locked away Because it’s the idea’s you have, That might make a difference one day.
By Edward Val5 months ago in Poets
Screaming from the rooftops. Top Story - May 2026.
I screamed from the rooftops today I screamed as loud as I could. My closest and dearest all to the furthest and coldest could hear my voice; but they tilted their head in disbelief.
By Cadma5 months ago in Poets
Phi Phi Island
Twilight, darkened sky Outlines of waving trees The soft sound of rain on the tin roof This is the calm of a monsoon Dull lights burn in the distance
By Leah Suzanne Dewey5 months ago in Poets
On The Mount
Fire to the candle's wick before my pen writes Flashback to what Matthew wrote in chapter 5 Trying to understand as questions grow roots inside
By Harydo Neon5 months ago in Poets
Timing
No one knows the mind of the wind. Each breeze carries its own heading. There is nothing to predict its course, nothing to trace its threading.
By J. K. Anderson5 months ago in Poets
Surmise
The sunrise is bright tomorrow, Grass greener than ever, That something happens I would have loved forever. A call comes and it lasts even while you make dinner,
By Gambit5 months ago in Poets
Top to Bottom. Bottom to Top.
I left the door the way you liked it half-open, half a question the suitcase still smells like that last summer before I knew what summer meant you said nothing, which was everything the porch light burning for no one I counted the steps so I wouldn't look back there are seven, I still know the key goes under the mat, always some habits survive the people who made them I thought grief was a direction it turns out it is a weather you will not find me where you left me the room has been rearranged, on purpose I kept the window and the light that comes through it I let the rest go slowly what I carry now fits in my hands it was never the leaving it was the moment before when the door was still warm
By Akiya ღ5 months ago in Poets
Prayer
I never used to believe that prayer worked When oftentimes, the silence of God felt terrifyingly loud I would sob into a messy wail that would fixate on walls being holy, closing in on me like a Holy Ghost that tormented my twisted body that felt things wrong
By Melissa Ingoldsby5 months ago in Poets
Free Thinker
If you want to understand me, you must first understand this... ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Author: Jason Thomas — aka Xxodia ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
By Jason Thomas5 months ago in Poets
Blowing It
finding comfort in the abstraction dissociating from the reaction 🔥💠📌💠🔥 everything I’ve ever known crushed to frit
By K.B. Silver 5 months ago in Poets