art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Where and When
Where When Where can it be When can it be Where you are When you are Where will it be When will it be Where can you go
Daniel BrizuelaPublished 7 years ago in PoetsPanic Attacks are Hard to Describe
It is spring, flowers blooming and all. I am outstretched - absorbing every bit of sun my skin can manage to grab on to There are ladybugs and bees, and I am afraid of neither - its been so long since I've gotten stung.
Ana RodriguezPublished 7 years ago in PoetsToo Beautiful
I remember when I had skin. I used to pride myself on my shell's beauty. I was always adorned with the best gems this earth has ever created, cinched in the finest materials, and the object of beauty that brought designers visions to life. I was flawless.
Shanique WaltersPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Maker
The child with the imagination choosesThe child, to read, choosesThe child, with wings of fancy flying about, sings and dances ‘til night’s endThe child knows what truth is beyond all truth
Althea LucePublished 7 years ago in PoetsEyes
Eyes, like galaxies, swimming with a color, So unnatural, so full of life, soulful, Beautiful, powerful, like destroyers, dark,
galaxus imprumPublished 7 years ago in PoetsUndeserving
Undeserving I am of you You've always demonstrated love that is true I tried to have my cake and eat it too Chance after chance you gave me
Garvin RayePublished 7 years ago in PoetsLife
You either fuck the world, or let the world fuck you. The pain can feel so good, making you cum with sadness. It's addicting, like the inhale of a morning cigarette.
Jessica RasilePublished 7 years ago in PoetsHoliday Routine
I’ve worked hard all week From the papaya dawn To mauve dusk Counting the days Till I get on that flight Jumping in and out the shower
Chloe GilholyPublished 7 years ago in PoetsWhat Is Your Potion
What is your potion? Is it giving higher power your devotion Staying loyal never foldin Do you stay talking But you're never truly open
Dasia DiggsPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHaunted for Years
I need to get fried or find a ride before the tide swallows me whole. I'd love to escape this place before I get raped, playing with tape always gets you into a sticky situation. I'm looking for a correlation between my mind and how kind i can be. I'd rather not bother than be bind into a line with prisoners and convicts who would cause hectic septic problems. I should really start writing with a pen this pencils giving me a bad omen from my pointless nights of roamin' i curled myself out of bed this morning i was curled in a ball wishing that the fall would arrive. The cold couldn't turn these old permafrost hands for another long season with the only reason of this being is the cigarette smoke and the caffeine running through my veins like my constant growing pains. Listening and looking into bright eyes until my personal flight arises it's quite surprising how depressing someone can be just from a single death. Life has taken advantage of this fallen love, is this really the way to mourn and heal the pain? To fix troubles upon you, to pass them on with mixed emotions and manipulative intentions? Fevers and fevers and mirrors will now haunt me for years. Constantly missing the woman I was once kissing, I'm stuck, just my luck. Best friends are lost... That's what it all cost, i'm feeling like jack frost the way no one believes in me makes it so painful to be alone I've lost all sense of home no place to put my gnome, oh how i'd like to roam around and finally get known. Finally shown how to truly live free.
Joseph GrantPublished 7 years ago in PoetsDarling
Creature in my own home. There's this Creature they all condemn. My place of rest, of solitude let's not forget. This space of reality
Katya AnastasiaPublished 7 years ago in PoetsBlue State of Mind
Yea that pretty girl with the puffy hair who will treat you good, cook your favorite meal feed you with freedom and sex-appeal