art

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

THE GARDEN WITHIN
THE GARDEN WITHIN A crimson rose beside her face, green leaves entwine her hair, she carries secrets in her eyes that only flowers share.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 12 days ago in Poets
Fill in the [redacted]
My [redacted] for you was visceral, viral, and vicious, tangible enough to pick up and throw it If you had your way, you likely would —
By Raine Neal12 days ago in Poets
The Little Bird
The Little Bird a little bird sat on a branch, so quiet and so still, he tilted his head and looked at me, as if he knew my will.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 12 days ago in Poets
The flower that caught fire
The flower that caught fire I woke up this morning with a fire in my head, and found a little flower where I thought my dreams were dead.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 13 days ago in Poets
The bird who carried the sky
The bird who carried the sky A little blue bird landed upon a crooked tree, and stared into the distance as if waiting just for me.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 13 days ago in Poets
Welcome to Elysium
What a super sign Welcome to Elysium WAIT It’s not my ti…. Can't say that I have ever made use of the services of the Elysium nail and beauty bar in Elmers End but I just love their window display sign, which reminds me of a Tracey Emin light tube work. If you are a Beckenham resident and patron of this outlet, please feel free to comment in the FB group where you may find this posted.
By Raymond G Taylor13 days ago in Poets
DOODLE ME A DOODLE
DOODLE ME A DOODLE Doodle me a doodle, I whispered to my pen, It drew a door with seven locks, Then rubbed them out again.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 13 days ago in Poets
Ent
We are the world’s record keepers We are the keepers of the knowledge In our rings The world lives forever Split us open and read the story of the world
By Atomic Historian15 days ago in Poets
THE NIGHT EXPLODED
THE NIGHT EXPLODED The night exploded quietly with stars all over black green bubbles went in every way and none were coming back
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 15 days ago in Poets
The Chair Across From Me
The house keeps the shape of whoever left. I do not say the name. I let the first note do that work. A kick. A snare.
By Overdrive Records15 days ago in Poets
Fame
We tape our mouths shut as we speak out for the murderers. “My brain eats itself,” Christa Pike commented, eight days from her scheduled state execution,
By Melissa Ingoldsby15 days ago in Poets
Uncertainty's Marker
Black lines uncertainty's marker Block out colours of creation Imprisoning ideas and hope Preventing growth and potential
By Paul Stewart16 days ago in Poets