Humans' creativity surprise me Not just art for when we get a muse But things we all use All started out with a thought An imagination some may call it
By L.I.Eabout a year ago in Poets
I long to bask in the afterglow of fingers tracing heat signatures down my spine wild, raw, aflame; burning in the version of me
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
no matter where you go, everyone is always connected— until we aren’t until, perhaps, we never were an “online community”
By angela hepworthabout a year ago in Poets
Travel far, let your feet take flight, Beyond the horizon, into the night. The world unfolds in colors untold, Each step a treasure, each story gold.
By Vabout a year ago in Poets
My thoughts and heart mimic the sound of the turning dryer. The left side of my brain tries to call my right side a liar. The clashing civil war of conflicting thoughts combat endlessly through the night.
By Rowan Finley about a year ago in Poets
in the rain i squint and i find the souls of trees. in the rain i listen and i see the echoes of coughs and colds. in the rain i wait a little and linger because of the smell of mud and dirt.
By Ruby Redabout a year ago in Poets
i let the water ripple and i leap inside the black hole rift. finding satisfaction makes for an easier task in darkness where no other eyes dare peek
It is always a battle ground up here. Thoughts colliding ,incomprehensibly I could try to explain but who would understand?
By Harydo Neonabout a year ago in Poets
broken stones and epitaphs fragile bones forget me nots bare hands clutching at moist soil soul possessing no control
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a year ago in Poets
I used to dream as a child, of living in a polka dot world People, places and life a swirl of wonderous spots Oh, how simple life seemed back then, in dreams of glorious dots
By Antoni De'Leonabout a year ago in Poets
when art is driven by more than a simple need to pay bills when art is transcendental and becomes more in others’ minds when art is the motivator,
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
I instruct myself on being more frightened Of the deepening darkness and rollicking silence Yet all my words of sage advice seem to wearily echo
By K.B. Silver about a year ago in Poets
