Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
As twilight's veil descends with hushed caress, The meadow stills, in evening's soft embrace. The ancient oaks, their branches intertwined,
By Printique Studios2 years ago in Poets
I discovered money was the issue, Size was an issue, Satisfaction was an issue. They felt I was childish, My life wasn’t in order.
By Marcelinus Apakhade2 years ago in Poets
If I had only a soul, I would be satisfied with your soul, but I also have a body Your shoulders, arms and hands And then you
By WAQAS AHMAD2 years ago in Poets
dear to my heart that bleeds with the broken the without the dead speaks to me whispers of the past hear them
By Astride Evans2 years ago in Poets
i loved him like the sun. i spilled my rays into his pockets so he could carry my heart. i traced his face with gold. i held him in my arms
By Sara 2 years ago in Poets
he loved me like the moon. sometimes it was full, almost milky and it spilled light all over my skies. other nights i could not find him
"Hello." "Hello." "What do you think?" "About what?" "About all of this." "I imagine it's a privilege." "A privilege, you say?"
By Bugsy Watts2 years ago in Poets
The peace a woman learns when all else has fallen. Her lungs awaken.
By Caladrius2 years ago in Poets
To be a poet? My heart will burn and hope that Ash is your color.
He´s sweeter than an apple pie, His hands so soft, soul untouched, has never said the last goodbye, Never heard the devil knocking on his door.
By Sleeping Pills 2 years ago in Poets
Is it my fault that my eyes are wide like berries? Is it my fault that i dance like I´m the only woman left? Is it my fault that my breasts are like cherries?
I know that I’m always nicest Tempers going down It’s minus That’s progression In my eyes No aggression In disguise Yeah survived coronavirus
By Haychie_Artist2 years ago in Poets
