Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
This is a basic poem I don’t know how to write rhymes If everyone ever wonders I just can… sing! * And I lend this hand to music
By Matt B.2 years ago in Poets
i often dream of the day i will let you stay outside prying at my windows instead of holding the door to my heart wide open.
By Sara 2 years ago in Poets
Faded carpets and worn-down pews, Riddled with tourists and camera crews People, there’s people everywhere, People beside and surrounding me
By ThatOne_Girl2 years ago in Poets
In the wind, echoes of patriots past Whispers of courage, strength, and grace Their legacy lives on, forever last In the hearts of those who dare to race
By Mia Dwi Arifiyanti2 years ago in Poets
In a world where colors dance and play, A vibrant realm, bright and gay, Rainbow High Dolls take the stage, Each with stories, page by page.
By GiftsFlash.com2 years ago in Poets
Have you ever seeked what you're unable to identify, unable to visualize The constant anticipation that plays in your mind like a dopamine effect
By Irvin 2 years ago in Poets
In salty whispers, Ocean's arms enfold with grace, Peace, eternal, flows.
By Printique Studios2 years ago in Poets
Sarcasm🙃is like kicking🦶someone's ass🚶, but with a punchline🗣️.
By Murali2 years ago in Poets
In the darkness, feeling lost I'm a ship without a course Muted colors, life's turned gray I'm drowning in an ocean, fading away
By The Omnichromiter2 years ago in Poets
How did I fall in love? You captured the brightest light in the sky, Then you placed in my heart, Where the brightest star glittered and shone,
By Carol Ann Townend2 years ago in Poets
In the serene suburbs of Willowbrook, where the streets meandered amidst canopies of ancient oak trees and the homes nestled harmoniously in their shade, a quaint antique shop named "Mystique Curiosities" stood as a beacon of intrigue. Its weathered brick façade, adorned with tendrils of ivy that seemed to whisper secrets of forgotten times, cast an enchanting spell on all who passed by.
By Dannie2 years ago in Poets
The weaver of sand, with silent, slow tread, He threads through the dunes, where secrets are bred. No map guides his steps, just an instinct so deep,
By mahmoud elsaad2 years ago in Poets
