art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
THE KEY. Top Story - May 2026.
I wrote this poem in 1968 sitting in my room of orange shag carpet, bright blue walls, I wrote this in 1968 after the 1967 Summer of Love. I TYPED ON AN ELECTRIC TYPEWRITER back then. Here are the papers from then, in cursive writing, So when anyone is checking for AI I have the papers.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 5 months ago in Poets
I Didn't Listen
As a child My mother would tell me To listen to my elders I didn't I didn't listen To her I didn't listen To them I stayed ignorant I played my games I watched TV I quietly doodled in the corner Deaf to to the hushes whispers I don't know why I didn't listen But eventually They stopped telling me I was a sponge That dried up I find it difficult To listen now Because I've grown out of practice To the musings of others And to the news around me I have tried to listen But because I didn't listen In the past I live in a world of silence
By J "Griffin" Rooms5 months ago in Poets
