art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Girl and Tiger
People say as a kid, while the car is going they'd imagine themselves running along with the car, hopping and flipping on different things like buildings and stop signs. I imagined something along those lines, but usually it was a tiger, slipping when it tries to catch onto the top of street signs and hoisting itself back up and throwing itself into a lunge to the nearest building. I'd sometimes imagine it getting held back and I wouldn't see it anymore but surprise surprise, it'd come running back from the top of a burning building, slipping into a window, crashing and again disappearing from my sight. I then looked away from the window and back to the driver, forgetting all about the tiger.
By Olive Paqui7 years ago in Poets
Areth
Enos, I was five and awoken by my parents, they were shouting. This wasn't the first time they argued. Getting out of my bed, crawling to reduce the noise. Crawling going over to the window, climbing up a stool to look out, there was nothing but clouds and a white glow, it was late.
By wesley whittick7 years ago in Poets
Never Ending Dance
This is the never ending dance, is what the memory of him plays in my mind. This is the never ending dance of life. It takes two to tango so some say but only one to dance. The beat is ever changing and we can't change fast enough with it. This dance is continuously throbbing in ever heart you meet. Millions upon billions of people dance together to the beat set just for them. Some are in sync while other are as different as black and white. Each trying to make their way. Each trying to be noticed. Every dance in every heart again the world around us. Time and space bend to its will by simple choice of a simple change. Everything circles around that mysterious beat that we all hear. Each different. Each uniquely complex. But then that's just life, little one. You can't expect to master it. You can change it as much as you like, but when it comes time for the tune to die so will the dance. But while it burns don't be afraid to follow the beat and dance. Just dance and pray the steps become easier with practice because this is our first, last, and only performance. Everyday is a chance to shine and make something good happen.
By Jazmine Barker7 years ago in Poets
My Words
My words, empty and meaningless, fall gracefully into the bottomless pit of the darkest void. My voice, lost in the crowded seas of others who speak louder, more educated. My stories, drifting unspoken, lost in the vastness of space amongst the massive stars that shine brightest. Unintelligible, insignificant, unworthy, I walk through the city of artisans whose feelings and messages ignite true meaning and shine light on the vestiges of what once was. Shallow, meaningless, lacking of depth, pointless ramblings with no true direction that stir no direction nor spark any human emotion. Fading as quickly as they are introduced.
By Terry James7 years ago in Poets
