art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Azure Skies Embrace
Azure skies embrace, Nature's brush, a dance unfolds, Dragonfly whispers grace.
Printique StudiosPublished 3 months ago in PoetsEnternal twilight
**Eternal Twilight**In the twilight's embrace, where day meets night,Eternal whispers weave through fading light.A dance of hues, in the celestial dome,Where shadows merge, and dreams find home.Soft whispers linger in the hazy air,As twilight descends, with gentle care.Daylight surrenders to the cloak of dusk,In the eternal embrace, where whispers husk.Silhouettes dance in the fading glow,As darkness tiptoes, casting its shadow.Stars awaken in the azure expanse,Painting the night with a cosmic dance.In the eternal twilight, time stands still,A moment suspended, with tranquil will.Where memories linger, in whispers low,And dreams unfold, in the afterglow.In the twilight's veil, secrets confide,Infinite stories, where shadows hide.A realm of magic, where spirits play,In the eternal twilight, they find their way.So let us wander in the twilight's gleam,Where reality fades, and dreams redeem.In the eternal twilight, let our spirits soar,Forever entwined, in its mystical lore.
Ozioma UwaomaPublished 3 months ago in PoetsTears Of Love’s Departure
Like the gentle breeze ceased, Your love quickly deceased. My eyes overflow with tears, Cascading down my cheeks.
Emmanuel UgwuanyiPublished 3 months ago in PoetsDeath/Rebirth
The world begins anew. Breaking the darkness of the night, Silence through and through, Weighted down by might, Heaving in one final breath,
Rachael MacDonaldPublished 3 months ago in PoetsIn the Night
In the night's hushed forge, Whispers shape the dreams' embrace, Dawn cradles hope's art.
Printique StudiosPublished 3 months ago in Poetsa performer or puppet
Do my words mean anything? They lack the beauty of poetry, they lack the consistency of stories. I'm held at gun point to produce something palatable. I'm a
"The Odyssey of Silence: A Wandering Soul's Tapestry"
In shadows cast and whispers heard, A soul adrift, with silence stirred. He, a wanderer lost in the night, Fading away, seeking respite.
Abecedarian Creek
A babbling brook careening down every
Atomic HistorianPublished 3 months ago in PoetsThe Interview
Why do you write the things you do? Because it's who I am. Who do you write these stories for? Myself, to distract from the world around me.
Thomas JamesPublished 3 months ago in PoetsPoison
Something poisonous is rushing through my veins and pumping its way to my heart. Its affecting everything I do. My writing. My words. My thoughts. My music. My day to day. Now that feeling is killing me slowly and I can feel those parts of me dying off.
Thomas JamesPublished 3 months ago in PoetsInspiration
Inspiration comes from the strangest places. Often flowing from where least expected. None can tell when it comes. It simply does.
Thomas JamesPublished 3 months ago in PoetsInspiration
Inspiration is a fleeting thing. When it's gone, you can't get it back. So you sit in darkness, waiting for something new to take hold.
Thomas JamesPublished 3 months ago in Poets