Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
Why are we so different? Are we so different? Do we not breathe the same air? Do we not bask under the same sun? What Earth are you from?
By Michael Wolfe7 years ago in Poets
There I am gazing back at me as I stand before the mirror, observing. It's Me. It's all in the eyes a certain little gleam that lets me know I'm still pilot.
Night arrives just in time, smooth as ever. The stars awaken, as do I. Restless ruminations that slumber during the day, spring to life as the sun wanes.
I know karma is a b*tch But its a risk to take With the vibes so fine It’s a shame you’re not mine We can be lovers Or we can just step back
By Dominick Morisseau7 years ago in Poets
My best friend Robin lives down the road. Dropped on her head when she was a baby. I think that's why she's a little bit crazy.
By Misty Gewin7 years ago in Poets
Scientists lift up the Petri dishes. Technologists employ thought and a clue. Engineers just bypass on the wishes. Artists recreate reality, too.
By Skyler Saunders7 years ago in Poets
I own my body and I own my mind and I own every little thing I've ever been curious about. I own my love for the things that I love
By Mary Grace7 years ago in Poets
This is my way of procrastinating on a paper I don't want to do for class. Some would argue it doesn't make sense– To write one thing when you don't want to write something.
By Bianca Wargo7 years ago in Poets
The muzzle velocity is like cake. It’s a dish that is eaten at a speed That approaches a dessert that must bake. To digest the round would satisfy needs.
Life's a gamble. I realized this in the moments I first truly encountered him. He knew it was a gamble– We'd talked about this moment as if it would be the only one.
Like a needle penetrating the skin, The spacecraft enters the orbit and more. All of the astronauts prepare within. There are great bits of grit that each must store.
Screams through passages like all of the ghosts Brings to the mind the treasures and riches. Every word fills in the thoughts as the hosts
