Arts + Entertainment
The central nexus for all things film, gaming, art, and music.
Letter to Walt Whitman
My Dear Walt Whitman, Primarily, I feel compelled, before any other written action of mine is composed, I am compelled to exceedingly compliment your blatantly-written work, Song of Myself, as one of the best I've ever had the pleasure of perusing and contemplating! Were I to travel in time to meet you, I would convey the impeccable impact your artfully-written work has had on literature even to my own day and time, in the year 2013. The book my literature class studies praises and quotes you as "the poet of both the beautiful and the plain, the body and the soul; [and says] his sexual honesty and refusal to feel ashamed of the body was a slap in the face to Victorian prudishness."
Keilie Desirea RosePublished 7 years ago in PoetsInterviewing Spirits
Interviewing spirits for a T.V. documentary Channeling a band that has their own discography A part of me wants your hardened view of reality
Love
Why’d you have to come here. Why’d you have to walk into my life. Now look at you, you're all I think about. I can’t get you out of my head.
Bundles of Sun
The first lights of dawn bounce off the stain glass windows of the freshly painted white crisp church. Voices flow out and through the door harmonizing with the wind, greeted with paper airplanes and children's laughter. A painter in the park contemplates the canvas before him, how does one paint love? The baker hums the song of a mockingbird as he prepares for the day ahead, the mailman hops down the street playing with the children laughing till their stomachs fiercely hurt. The old little woman sits on a porch swing smiling as souls sail past her. She picked up a golden basket woven with precision. "Ma'am what is in the basket?" inquired a young girl with as many freckles as stars in the sky. "Bundles of sunshine" The old women grinned. "Take it and be the sun and warmth in someone's life for we as humans tend to walk in confidence while some cower in the dark brambles of life's most painful thorns" the old wise soul whispered. The young girl stood in awe, as she walked away she could not peel her eyes off the bundle of sun. The old women sighed of comfort as she watched the young child walk away with hope.
Alvina BorishkevichPublished 7 years ago in PoetsTwo Poems
[ A Little Attic in my Head ] (Pt. 1) I close my books for the night. I repack the boxes And check if any need more duct tape.
Cat Charity JudePublished 7 years ago in PoetsFaith Be Changed
The lady Esther had just laid the children to sleep. As she gathers her thoughts of what the Lord may be doing, she walks the hall that leads to his bedchamber. She rounds the corner and cannot believe what she sees. Her legs felt like iron. She tried to speak, but her voice was as quiet as a mouse. It did not seem to catch their attention, for they were lost in each other's eyes. The candle light in the hall was enough to see one another well, for they seemed as if they were in love. She finally manages to move a little. The stone beneath her foot made a sound that made them both turn their heads and see her standing there. He was stunned to see her stand there. He wonders how much she has seen of the two. She felt betrayed by the one she called her friend, lover, husband, and the father of their children. He tried to reach her, but she stepped out of his reach for she was able to move her body and run back the way she came. Tears run down her face as she tries to get back to her room, but she is suddenly stopped by a figure who is standing in front of her, holding his hand out. She hears a voice speak to her, but his lips do not move. "Come with me, for you will be in no more pain, no more sadness. But utter happiness." She moves slowly, reaching her hand to his. Than someone behind her says, "my Lady get away from him!" She turns fast and sees Captain a few steps behind her: running to her, trying to reach her. But is not fast enough, for he wrapped himself around her, drawing her close to him. With the sound of cracking thunder outside shining bright in the window next to them, the Lady and man were gone. Where did they go?
Natasha CurtisPublished 7 years ago in PoetsShe’s Just Like Me
I was lit in the midst of twilight when she told me she loved me. I was lost in the haze of it all, this indecipherable language she was babbling in.
Joke MarfskyPublished 7 years ago in PoetsI Just Can't Seem to Let You Go
Back in the days When I still had you I didn't need anyone else at all But if I could have Looked at the future The scenes would have stained
J.J. CaldwellPublished 7 years ago in Poets