Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
In the whispers of morning’s first light, Where dewdrops glisten, a shimmering sight, Lies a world untouched, a canvas pristine,
By KVarnas3 years ago in Poets
In the meadow’s golden glow, a bee takes flight, Its wings a blur of motion, in the soft sunlight. Amidst the petals, it lands with grace,
In the garden of memories, where roses once bloomed, Now lie wilted petals, in sorrow entombed. For there, amidst whispers of a love once so true,
In the rush of the day, in the hum of the night, Many pass through this world with nary a sight. Blinded by routine, consumed by their strife,
Triabilsing with the terror of the unknown, Gasping at the bane of my existence, my soul set on a quest to discover a new home
By Hridya Sharma3 years ago in Poets
Snow Snow falling, the visible magic coating all below it, icing sugar dusting for the human race, Racing, as we do, but with ease and elegance.
By Charlotte Eden 3 years ago in Poets
Amidst nature's grace, Earth's pulse, a silent rhythm, Soul's flight, nature's song.
By Printique Studios3 years ago in Poets
Earths Art Creations from the Louve of Impressionistic Painted honeycombs Shinning Endlessly
By Ocusan M3 years ago in Poets
In Willow Creek, where shadows weep, Sarah lived, her sorrow deep. A solitary soul, by woods embraced, Longing for love, in solitude faced.
In the velvet sky, the moon holds sway, A gentle orb that guides the way. Silver beams dance on waves below, Casting a mystical, enchanting glow.
Reflections of you and me, reflections of how life once used to be, long ago and far away, when love was new. * Memories like ripples upon the water,
By Rasma Raisters3 years ago in Poets
Easton noted over Manhattan the sunrise would soon turn the night to day at speed of an optical illusion, like a gradual eclipse
By Paul Stewart3 years ago in Poets
