Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
“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 Patel3 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 Ingoldsby3 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 !?
By 365poetry3 days ago in Poets
***** 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
By Diana3 days ago in Poets
imagine feeling everything pangs 0f infinite gn0stic hunger bef0re, after, during thinly in the brain aut0cannibalized by the mind
By ⸘jason alan‽4 days ago in Poets
Something, I'm saying something as if this word needs enough messages !? Something, I'm saying that makes us want to know exactly what it is that makes us who we are, and what we should do !?
By 365poetry4 days ago in Poets
The way I write It sounds melodic Planet earth became demonic Gods green earth Is what It Is Calling out the ones I’ll diss
By Haychie_Artist4 days ago in Poets
UK has become a cesspit Vibe Is low you see the stress hit Zombie land Is what we see London Capital with C All around the country guessed It
The bee hasn't said hello to you, the function of it is to provide HONEY !? This bee hasn't moved, and also, haven't said hello to you, the function of it is to provide HONEY !?
I'm trying to understand the capacity of our thoughts !? The capacity of our words as we think of things from the past.. The capacity of engaging with a person, a name, or a page - the capacity to experience life more than what it is these stage !?
Beauty Smothered In Flame An orange rose rises from the dark soil, Petals bright as a fading sunset, Yet black edges creep along its skin,
By George’s Girl 2026 5 days ago in Poets
