The poet wrote the moon, the stars and the sky honestly,
For every drop of spark and shimmer, he spoke words of only beauty.
He made his masterpiece on a settling edge amidst of nowhere,
Words guttered out of his mind in creativity, high flair.
Bliss eroded from his heart on papers fine line,
With rhythms meeting like relatives at the very end of their spine.
His eyes peeled curiosity among the old oaks and shadows,
The weary eyes of old folks and their age that follows.
The dimming streetlights and hitchhikers that never rest,
Drifting sights in mist and Creach Owls in their nest.
The howling of wear wolves on rugged mountain tops,
And the sound of their hoofs through bushes that never stops.
The streams with silent wishes and crystal on their lining,
The poet slumbered home as the moon says off and smilingツ
Category: People
Purple

Like the nebula in the sky,
Your eyes follow the twinkling of the stars,

I Don’t understand why is the night cold,
But I do know you keep me warm,

I give you words to remember me by,
And you blind me from the dark,

I know your touch is art ,
But I wanna keep looking at the stars,

This high ceiling,
Keeps our minds at bay,

I see your shadow struggling
To see

How the stars shine,
So it can be

The stars look beautiful tonight,
They look better when I look at them with you

the moon shares his glare with us,
Giving us permission to look,

I don’t feel jealous of the star,
Just a little sad they aren’t closer

I don’t feel jealous of the moon,
Just sad i can’t walk down her back

I don’t feel jealous of them in any way,
They aren’t me and you

Under the nebula ,
And the twinkling of your eyes,

The moon reminds me of my faith ,
The sun of your glair,

We can’t really run away from death,
But we can show him how to care,

Life ain’t really life
Without them lights,

That light up when I look at your eyes,
I caress your hair and look at the sky

Waiting for the sunset to rise.
Aa Harvey 23h
The Image


A thought cannot be tamed.
Many have tried and failed before.
A thought will never be chained.
Our minds are built without walls.


A word will not be changed,
For it is written down in ink.
A poem will say exactly what needs to be said;
Its effect will depend on what you think.


A painting once seen will never be erased,
No matter what anybody may say.
There is no way to contain art.
The story will find a way.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
When your heart aches
and your soul cries.
When you feel lonely
and you struggle to get through the night.
When your chest hurts
and you're sad to the core.
When you give your best
but they ask for more.
When you feel empty,
you're full of void.
When life means nothing
but the devil's joy.
When your hands shake
while you're playing your part.
When you feel so afraid
you may never be loved back.
When you see nothing
but your future grave
and those judging eyes
turn the other way.
When everything you do is never enough
and the little good things
not a second last.
When all of that happens choose to create art.
They'll paint white walls over your thoughts
Because they think simplicity looks better than polka dots

They will strip you down to nothing
Because bare is better than bare minimum

They say your body is your canvas
Then why are they scribbling
On my canvas?

They'll doodle
They’ll doodle words
With some phrases of flatter
Like "You're pretty"
Teaching us that, that should be our primary focus.

They'll hang up a nude model picture,
Because your body should look like this, you know? Richer.

They'll say your body is a temple
“Oh you're eating all that for lunch?”
They'll say your body is a temple
But My body
My body is the house
I grew up in
And yet you have the audacity to try and burn it down?

Oh,
I forgot to mention,
The white paint that they used to paint over you? yeah ... slight misunderstanding. Its permanent.

What could they expect? Their fault, actually... it said everything on the label.
But they were too busy, you see.  Too busy to see what it was really made out of, too busy to read what made it the way it was.
Because one glance is enough, right?

One glance is enough to ask her what did you eat today?
And I would answer oh plenty!
Sure I did.
I ate plenty of lonely with a side of regret and sprinkle of sadness for a touch of flavour
And for dinner, I ate my tears
In Front of the mirror, specifically and I watched my blood eat me alive
And suddenly
I wasn't so hungry anymore.

And you would look happy with my answer because
I'm treating my body like a house I don't even recognize

And you would look happy with my answer because
I let my body become your canvas

And you would look happy with my answer because
Your white paint was worth your money after all.
Writing by the moonlight,
she gets lost in the Ocean’s waves,
half Angel have Mermaid,
have uncontrollable have behaved,

so beautiful she is,
this Work of Art in Progress,
she’s got this God feeling God Blessed,
which only makes sense since she’s a Goddess,

lost in,
her conscious,
we’re in love,
it’s obvious,
this life,
is only an instant,
then it’s gone in a flash,
like an epiphany or meditative vision,
everything’s intrinsic and happens in an instant,
so we operate of instinct and intuition,

we drink from the Fountain of Youth,
and eat the Forbidden Fruit when it comes to fruition,
swimmin’ like a dolphin all in this current current that’s constant,
not a fish or a fisherman so I’m not fishing,

just sittin’,
on the beach in Venice,
watching my love swim in the sea,
at midnight under the full moon feeling replenished,

listing to Miguel sing tales,
of The Day The City of Angels Fell,
with my girl and I know she’s only human,
but she seems so much like a Mermaid I swear I see a tail,

as she swims in the ocean,
on a wave catching waves,
half Angel have Mermaid,
have uncontrollable have behaved,

her gaze,
melts these walls I’ve built,
and yeah the water’s rough,
but her touch is smooth as silk,
as we set sail,
into the future and all it entails,

oh God I’ve never felt,
so much for the touch of one,
told you before she’s my lifeguard,
we’re just getting started and the rest are already done,

writing by the moonlight,
she gets lost in the Ocean’s waves,
half Angel have Mermaid,
have uncontrollable have behaved,

so beautiful she is,
this Work of Art in Progress,
she’s got this God feeling God Blessed,
which only makes sense since she’s a Goddess…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
Oh magnanimous ruler of poetic plights
Giveth me thine strength to write
With such diction that I'll have two words to each line.
Oh how verbose is my mind
on the page
When I try with all might
To delay my short sight

But you! My magnificent master
No man dare find rhyme faster than thee
All I see
Is the artful complexity
That blesses the page
And I rage!
One word
One line
All 26 characters utilized
I need not surmise
That this is the stage
Of your grandest play
And my demise
There is no correct way, in my opinion, to write poetry. Any form that art takes is first about the intention of the artist and then perception. Both aspects being equally important.
Alex 5d
What a coaster of ups and downs
Sort of boring
But ever so beautiful
A true work of art
Nekdkddkfk
I cry every time I watch that movie
:/ it's unfair
Morgan 5d
My eyes were closed.
The rise and fall of my chest syncopated to the rise and fall of the sun.
That's when I felt it--
Each fingertip penetrating deep into my rib cage
Until my fresh heart was encapsulated in her hands.
I was entranced in her gaze while she watched me curiously;
As if she were waiting for my life to subside.
A slow hand lifted to her face with my heart drawing closer to her lips.
I watch as her pure white teeth sink in and she watches me as I writhe in sin.
Nothing but sheer pleasure is on her grin until it turns to a grimace.
She spits the blood back into my face
And launches my heart back into its cage
But it doesn't feel quite the same.
The bite wound will never repair itself, the tissue will never regenerate
Because she decided my shade of blood wasn't good enough anymore
And that she never liked the way it tasted to begin with.
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