art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Inspiration
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 PoetsInspiration
Inspiration is the driving force behind those that create. Yet is difficult to define. However the best example I've found is this:
Thomas JamesPublished 3 months ago in PoetsLive in My Memories
Remembering days that used to be, days of you and me, a love that golden shone, when we were young and in love. How time has flown,
Rasma RaistersPublished 3 months ago in PoetsThe Seasons of My Life
Through the seasons, in my life, I have wandered, with each new, spring, summer, autumn, and winter. So many footsteps are left behind,
Rasma RaistersPublished 3 months ago in PoetsEND OF TIMES
World war 3 Is round the corner My job Is to Warna Brother Have we reached the end of times Look how high’s the fricking crimes
Haychie_ArtistPublished 3 months ago in PoetsThe Hedonists
After the party, that lascivious bohemia, Bacchanalian hubbub Carrying on still night air, erotic Dancing rhythms and bloomed
Hannah MoorePublished 3 months ago in PoetsLimit Two per Customer
Everyone thinks you’re some kind of hustler They think you want the entire smorgasbord But they don’t realize You’re not an easy customer
Atomic HistorianPublished 3 months ago in PoetsChromatic Chronicles
In a world adorned with hues so bright, A tapestry of colors, a mesmerizing sight. Painted skies in shades of twilight's kiss,
Golden whispers
Golden whispers hum, Nature's tapestry unfolds, Sunlight dreams embrace.
Printique StudiosPublished 3 months ago in Poetsam i muse or am i man
I seek tragic happily-ever-afters but i run directly at disasters time after time and over again i reject the stove yet burns
⸘jason alan‽Published 3 months ago in PoetsExpert
An expert she’s not even though she’s striving and fighting second to many. she’s not the first and the best she is
Merrie SandersPublished 3 months ago in PoetsThe Fallen King
Battle after battle He fought time and time again Taking souls as he pleased Ruling proudly from his demesne. He held no love in his heart He relished causing pain Until he came upon the beautiful Anaisa For his deeds he then felt shame.
Tressa RosePublished 3 months ago in Poets