art

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

Sharp tattered blackberry
Some pierce the grueling veil of normalcy by firing at the White Whale of truths To force out the latency of a familiar sting of old news that has layered from false to true to reality
By Melissa Ingoldsby6 months ago in Poets
The Crimson Wanderer
He does not look up at the open sky — he has already memorized its weight, the way light folds at the edges of everything,
By Prompted Beauty6 months ago in Poets
CLOSING DOORS
Letting go things you don’t need Adding value not they’re on…. Causing headaches and the stress Closing doors we need them gone….
By Haychie_Artist6 months ago in Poets
Anus Horribilis: Tragedy Domestica
Anus horribilus If you don't wipe Not too hard tho Or the paper turns Well.. what? - brown plus red: Terra cotta Toilet Rosetta stone-like Parchment, Or scroll Of problematic bowels - Someone said annual I heard anal - Someone said therapist I screamed Sex offender * Thanks for reading! Little bit of Tuesday subversive fun. Isn't language fun. Or is this just me hiding darker, more serious themes beneath a swirling sea of sewage?
By Paul Stewart6 months ago in Poets
Still Blue
One Kiss One Wish Alone I Sank In The Bay Of Love, With One Remedy… Abandoned Optimism Lingers Around My Heart And Still I Feel Blue…
By HandsomelouiiThePoet (Lonzo ward)6 months ago in Poets
In Blood and Pain
The devil places charges, the darkness hurls spears; he hates and hurts with wound and vice - tearing flesh, finding fears.
By Gabriel Huizenga6 months ago in Poets
Suicide
My hand begins to tremble As my finger starts to squeeze The barrels to my brow now As I rest upon my knees Tears slowly seeping from the corners
By Edward Val6 months ago in Poets
I SAT ALONE ON THE HOLIDAY
written, created, edited by Vicki Lawana Trusselli & my little Sweetie Bird, punk rocker Even with all the horror in the world, Sweetie Bird has entered her full punk rock era, mohawk up, attitude sharp, tiny heart wide open.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 6 months ago in Poets
Worthy
Your words are worthy no prize is necessary as long as they're loved --------------------------------- Previous:
By Jemma Jae6 months ago in Poets
Icarus. Top Story - April 2026.
Mankind is Icarus and our own pride is the wind that deafened him as he flew, drowning out any other thoughts or sensibilities
By Donny Foley6 months ago in Poets
The Still Center of the Storm
We stand in the whirlwind of days that never pause, Spun by winds of want, of worry, of cause. Voices clamor, clocks tick like accusations,
By Algieba6 months ago in Poets
The Horizon That Walks Beside Us
We chase the line where earth kisses sky, Calling it future, calling it why. Yet every step we take, the horizon moves, Not away, but alongside, in quiet grooves.
By Algieba6 months ago in Poets