art

Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.

Haley Vandyke3 days ago
You Never Knew Me
I knew your favorite meal is well balanced with lots of colors. I know you take your coffee black and mix green tea with others. I know the kinds of books you read and the shows you like to watch, The...
Eyes to Read
How much are you able to read? Not only just to see. To the thought of, maybe even just having a feeling. How much are you able to read before you get bored of reading? See, here’s my theory for this ...
Rowan Finley5 days ago
Acrylic Tears
You thickheaded medium! You never grow old or yellow, because you drank from the fountain of youth! But your wet eyes dry quick and easy, recovering your composure and frame of mind. Rising from the 1...
Shade of Voice
There was shadow Before the sun, A vast unknown Broken by shapes and hues, That we used To create known images-- Not enough to answer Questions and orders Raddled by badges Ties and thick lip stick-- ...
TW
Todd Worrell9 days ago
Thinking, Hiding, and Watching
thinking about that month, those weeks, a day years shuffled at an intentionally hurried pace, with places to go, no time to stay it wrinkled our clothes and bleached our hair we ironed them out and d...
Paige Graffunder10 days ago
Control
Things are always difficult, And life always takes its toll. How can we get anywhere, If we don't take control? But surrender is an option, Even if it's frightening When the only thing that lights the...
Cass A11 days ago
Untitled Journey
Where am I to go? This here, I don't know. I'm not sure what do or who to turn to. It feels like everything I say, gets taken the wrong way. And I can't speak my mind without judgements and side eyes....
Kaelyn Peay11 days ago
Vincent's Irises
Vincent saw flowers. He saw long soft leaves like locks of hair and great blue flapping flowers with golden beaks— or perhaps he saw green, vertical life erupting up from low orange flames, like a mir...
Basquiat
World renowned artist, versatile in his approach, never boxed in, very free spirit, the chains of life set the fire to speak, speak up for his people in a way people would see, his goal was not to be ...
Mel E. Furnish16 days ago
Monster
Clomp, clomp, Shush, here he comes. Clomp, clomp, Monster, feet like drums. Click, click, Body shaking. Click, click, World quaking. Bang, bang! Heart stops, Bang, bang! A body drops. Pow, pow, pow! Enraged, he strays. Blood sprays, is he crazed? Craves power, Revenge he praised. Lost or broken, thoughts a-haze. Just a phase? Hell no, he's a maze. Pain and torment raised. Abandoned or abused, what sways, His mind to kill all trapped in the haze? Bullied or ignored, never held his gaze. Media rem...
Serrena Gragg17 days ago
Life Is the Lemon
Life itself as turned into a lemon Spraying sour juice on everything. That’s why your eyes burn when you go outside. That’s why you feel like your throat is dry. Grab some water to dilute the days, Bu...
Susan Leitch18 days ago
Nasca
Arms draped in chains of choice. The weight– unsobering, 'till dizziness ensued. Your loyal promise to a worthless cause; In cold-lined quarry; blood in stone. In the deep chasm of your well-mined hea...
Obi Abassi21 days ago
Strings
Guitar strings make my fingers bleed All of these riffs and taps is all I need Heed with steed noblemen of free These might be the last strings to make me bleed Hope played on strings that don’t seem ...
Didi Menendez21 days ago
Hockney
I wonder if he talks about Hockney to others or if he just does that with me? And what if I wanted to just brush black circular motions like a long playing vinyl record onto a canvas as I listen to Ha...
Erin Suurkoivu23 days ago
Monster
There is nothing to pinpoint Of the strange beast. Only images, Blurred and refracted, Fleeing down a hallway Of mirrors. O maestro of conditions, It is you they are in love with, A dark sun unaware of its own orbiting planets. They are the cause of all of it. Every comet, every lack Leaves a trail etched across your sky. And in their eight eyes Something seemingly whole becomes distorted, A piece cut out made separate from the rest. From this gulf appears a war engine, A bite of venom, The desi...
Mel E. Furnish23 days ago
The Burdens We Carry
CHAINS Crawling on hands and knees, something holds us back. How can we fly with these chains we bear? Add another; we will carry our prison with us until we crack. Initially, it was a false sense of ...
David Boers23 days ago
Painting
Colours splashed across the page my hands flew all over the place as if they had a creative mind the colours started to turn into a face. The painting could come to life if care and thought were kept ...
David Boers23 days ago
Brush Strokes
Each brushstroke has a meaning like a human being's life. It was put there for a purpose so don’t hurt yourself with knife. Red paint is the color of beauty so keep it in your life. Your body is not p...