Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
A crash course with life, Is like birth and death alike. For moments come and moments pass, Their gravity hitting like falling mass.
By Bianca Wargo7 years ago in Poets
I’m thinking of my mom and what she thinks of me. Am I some fly-ass negro, or is she ashamed of me? It’s funny it’s the first time I’ve thought of this before.
By The Disruptors7 years ago in Poets
I’m not unclean, but I ain’t pure either. Smeared my lipstick and broke the mirror. I’ve been too low not to know the soil
By Carmen Fletcher7 years ago in Poets
A dark brown container Reeks of birch and rot. A rustic setting for an atelier, The artist dwells within Composing pieces of societal disapproval,
By Nick Speros7 years ago in Poets
In the beginning there’s always two, no matter your origin And the universe in all of her beauty takes years to handcraft you into what you are and what you’ll become
By Allyson Woody7 years ago in Poets
A flicker of candle flame, from the ledges of the porcelain, milky white, reflection-less window pane. The drop of water on a nearby leaf
By Wendy Wachtel7 years ago in Poets
Lost at Sea again, search for clarity. Frozen in my web of fear and insecurities. Buried in the deep, broken at the core. Time to heal this weathered soul and climb back out that hole.
By Jon Hart7 years ago in Poets
her feet against the inky rubber track: slap twap, slap twap—, bum knee! her braid, driving the cadence home between her shoulder blades: swip tip, swip tip.
By Alana Boyles7 years ago in Poets
Here I sit beneath the twilight sky. Watching, waiting for the sun to say goodnight. Let the world around me darken to velvet black. Where I can see the silvery moon smiling back.
By Misty Gewin7 years ago in Poets
As she walks ahead, she's stuck in a loop She hasn’t figured out the root The core where all of it stems So many layers, she lost count of them
By Amanda Iadinardi7 years ago in Poets
Welcome traveler's you've come far. Just to claim your candy bars- So open now this pumpkin bag and reach inside, you never know just what you'll find.
I met a Woman, who told me her story. I met a Warrior who banded with me. I met a Goddess who revealed her Humanity. And I affirmed what is the true meaning of being Human.
By Jean Paul Limage7 years ago in Poets
