Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
My Tits When I go to the store And buy a new shirt I have to think How it would look I have to wonder “Will people think I'm slutty For emphasizing my breasts?”
By J "Griffin" Roomsa day ago in Poets
She turns her gaze to heaven’s light, Too bright to face, too fierce, too white. She looks instead to fields of gold,
By CA'Di LUCE * Confessions & Memories in Conversations with friends!/ It’s not a revolution—it’s a quiet evolution.2 days ago in Poets
Leprous mouth like the moth front the light, I dared to open the throat of my chasm shameless riping apart my guts Uttering vibrations of your breath
By Diana2 days ago in Poets
Traveler of Worlds Beyond I walked where the sky forgets its name, through doors that opened without a sound, past stars that bled into one another,
By George’s Girl 2026 2 days ago in Poets
I woke up with a stranger’s name in my mouth and no idea who it belonged to. The room felt familiar the way an old song does
By John Smith2 days ago in Poets
What would be the reason I am awake at this hour !? I have NO desire to be with the world, to speak to people as if they had value!!
By 365poetry2 days ago in Poets
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” wrote John Keats in his 1818 poem 'Endymion'. Its words still hold true, always will.
By Seema Patel2 days ago in Poets
I stand in the kitchen full of unbridled rage as he yells across the living room and into my ears I stand so silently as he mocks me with no hesitation
By Melissa Ingoldsby2 days ago in Poets
I was born in 1962, 1958, or even 1979 - clap if you have the same feeling !? I had sex at 10, 25, 98 - clap if you have the same feeling !?
***** December - 2025.... There will always be 24 hours within a day, 52 weeks within a year, and according to the calendar, it just doesn't seem right when none of us have taken our purpose and life goals into consideration.
the one of law ruling self crowned becoming an outlaw by tyranny power play allowing only subordinations, hierarchical interest of the one
imagine feeling everything pangs of infinite gnostic hunger before, after, during learning and knowing em0ti0ns at a b0iling p0int
By ⸘jason alan‽3 days ago in Poets
