art

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

I Loved a Dreamer on the Haziest of Mornings
I loved a dreamer this morning, His dark hair, and the darkness of his brows, His dark eyes, and the darkness of his visage,
By Meri Utkovska3 years ago in Poets
Shall I Dare and Dream?
You are a ripple In the vastness of my ocean, A notion of rise and fall, Hide and seek, You speak to me Of hyacinths, bluebells and daffodils,
By Meri Utkovska3 years ago in Poets
Fractured Perceptions - A Short Poetry Film
I wake up at the cusp of dawn With fractured perceptions – I am a vast sense of longing shaped into a ravenous sea. Out of my mouth, the birds have still not fled,
By Meri Utkovska3 years ago in Poets
Fractured Perceptions
I wake up at the cusp of dawn With fractured perceptions – I am a vast sense of longing shaped into a ravenous sea. Out of my mouth, the birds have still not fled,
By Meri Utkovska3 years ago in Poets
Alone
I live alone in a house above a lake. Every day it changes colour, torn in half by the wake of speeding boats that pass me by. Every day, I am reminded that silence can symbolise chaos and calm, depending on the state of the soul as it listens.
By Georgia Jones3 years ago in Poets
Harmony of Hearts
Whosoever discovers me, be of true existence, My heart, delicate, cradled in tender embrace, Thy affection, a remedy, a healing persistence,
By Takudzwa Mlambo3 years ago in Poets
The Robbery
They were the only two customers in the bank that day when masked robbers came in and told everyone to get on the ground. Their bodies hit the floor with a pound.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Poets
Why not!
In this park, There are two sides one is cold and dark filled with ducks the monotony of dark blue in it reveals the sadness like an ocean-deep cry or maybe a scream of anger from Him all covered in an unrealistic unemotional smile a strange doze of happiness no joyfulness
By Antea Lumina Kala Matylda 3 years ago in Poets
Never too late
It was a late chilly October evening. The streets were bustling with people returning from work, going for enjoyment and so on. It’s their 41st wedding anniversary. Time has gone for 41 years filled with blissful memories both good and bad.
By Fahhan3 years ago in Poets
Spiritual Recharge
Spirituality for serenity and calmness Is not about dogma or doctrine But about awareness and practice Of the simple and profound truths
By Dave H.3 years ago in Poets
Memory
Dreams belong to me. They are my story, my experiences. Bound by rules only I can attempt to understand. Memories belong to us. We are shaped by them, we shape the ones to come. We experience them over and over again. In glee and delight. Sweeter with time and more profound with age. Memories ripen under our shared gaze. Context fading and pleasure rising. Context is the cage that restricts. It limits, restrains the glee. The less of it we have the more fantastic the memory, the more ecstasy we allow the memory to drown us in. When we remember, we dream together.
By Tarik Murrell3 years ago in Poets
Unleashing the Passion in us
Passion is the fire that burns in our soul The spark that ignites our dreams and goals The fuel that drives you to pursue your purpose
By Dave H.3 years ago in Poets