art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
The Death of My Senses
My reflection? Something I’ve always had an affinity for, before I head out the door I’m sure to check my face, hair and teeth, fresh and clean the way I wish to be perceived on the outside at least but could honestly care less about what I have put inside it. For someone who focuses so much on himself, I find it a little ironic he only looks in the mirror but not too much to his health.
By Matthew Garcia8 years ago in Poets
Star Gazing
And she laid upon the grass to gaze at the stars. Little reflections of her very self. But were they mesmerizing or horrifying? Each star shining a little brighter than the next, mirroring a different part of who she was, what she's done, what she was becoming, who she wanted to be. Each star telling her story whether she wanted it told or not. Each star painting the sky of color like a mood ring refleting every emotion she's ever felt. She laid upon the grass and gazed at the stars. But were they mesmerizing or horrifying?
By Tiara Mustafa8 years ago in Poets
