art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Whispers of Liberation
In the depths of night, I found my spark, Through whispered dreams, I left the dark. Lost in shadows, I found my way, In silent whispers, I heard them say. Chained by rules, I yearned to break free, In secret whispers, I found the key. Bound by norms, I longed to defy, In whispered truths, I learned to fly. Drowning in noise, I sought quiet peace, Through gentle whispers, my soul found release. Trapped by chaos, I craved serene, In whispered promises, I found my scene. Shackled by expectations, I sought my voice, In whispered courage, I made my choice. Burdened by conformity, I yearned to shine, Through whispered love, I found my sign. But in the end, I stand tall and proud, In whispered echoes, I hear the crowd. In whispered echoes, I find my call, In the silence, I rise above all.
By Ann-Marie Martin3 years ago in Poets
The Bittersweet Saga of Paint's Life's Conclusion
In the quiet corners of a dusty art studio, where the scent of turpentine mingled with the vibrant hues of oil paint, there lived a humble tube of paint named Vermilion. Born from the hands of a skilled artisan, Vermilion was infused with the rich pigment of crushed minerals and bound together with linseed oil, destined to bring color and life to the canvas.
By sudip tarafder3 years ago in Poets
