Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Seb Tha Guru Mar 31
You miss two or three celebrations, buy incentives, you beg me to come.
Meet and greet with brothers really different, we be bearing arms.
My family be at the table talking ****,
guess that's the price of love.
Putting money in his pockets, but I'm stressed, so here goes a dub.
For years, been writing page after page just to get a head nod.
Stay out the streets, get killed, or suffer;
my reason for over night jobs.
Trying not to rob.
I've always dropped the ball so I gave it to God.
Hanging out the window with my stick, we was out in Cobb.

I wanted to be in the league when I grew up.
I wanted to be in the streets when I grew up.
I wanted to be like bro when I grew up.
I wanted all the hoes when I grew up.

I wanted to be like my daddy when I grew up.
I wanted my own family when I grew up.
I wanted to free my cousin when I grew up.
I wanted to make it out when I grew up.

Never knew what love meant, I had to grow up.
I never knew how to vent, I need to grow up.

I was acting like a little boy, I had to grow up.
I be feeling like a lonely child, I gotta grow up.
palette
russet, olive hues
yellow ochre
bird's egg blue

vastness held
within a bowl
turned over earth
to heal and hold

moisture from
the morning rain
thus the painter's
eye is trained

cadmium white
a fan-like brush
sketch mare's-tail clouds
an artist's touch

far horizon
grayish blue
a woman reclines
in the ****

her form reveals
the breasting hills
her hips the mountains
hushed and still

mid-ground
blurs of olive cacti
the saguaro
rise like hackles

Palo Verde lie in lumps
yellow flowers
bloom in clumps

point of brush
tweaks out the trees
turn of branches
stippled leaves

small are they
to catch the light
but the moisture
loss is slight

ochre foreground
brownish stones
blue-gray shadows
light source shown

grayish purple
prickly pears
ocotillo
here and there

spindly with splash of red
barrel cacti nod their heads

buff highlights
saguaro flowers
I could sit and
paint for hours

there's time to write
but now I pray
look upon these
words today

they paint the desert
you will find
If only in
the poet's mind!


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2017
I gaze the wheat field
gusts of wind erupt and impede to the very end
crows take flight towards the blood red Sun
he calls them back
rests his weary hands and tired eyes
before the long walk into town
his silhouette fades as I awaken
to view the captured image that hangs
from my wall
the perfect lucid dream
Shades of them
Shade of me
And then
For a reason
There
You're

And less is more

Maybe
Just maybe
Where there
Is Art

There you're

For all to see
Theme: Soul Feeds
Persephone Jan 19
You are truly breathtakingly beautiful.
And I condemn god every time I see you for not gifting me with an artistic soul.   
For you deserve nothing less then to be immortalized in art
Tichozpytec Jan 18
An atelier, her small world
Dawn's begun, it's time to work
What do Muses have in store?
She walks with shirt and nothing more
Closer to the easel, brush in her hands
Nothing concrete is in her plans
She listens to the song of morning
With ideas slowly forming
She mixes paints, breathes them in
Such beauty just ought to be a sin
Hand dances on the canvas blank
A ballet of the highest rank
Possessed by gods, she paints and paints
Power surges through her veins
Fix imperfections, a final stroke
From trance she suddenly awoke
Two steps back, sharp eye of a critic
Mind that observes, an analytic
And when she's happy, she sits on the ground
Just looking and looking, not making a sound
In her mind's eye, she feels his embrace
Melancholic smile, tears on her face
She painted for him, though he can't see
"A one for the future, for him and for me"
Nigdaw Dec 2021
emotional kata
series of strokes
against the resistance
of canvas
a picture evolves
almost like nature
becoming organic
an extension of emotion
battle conquering calamity
the brush talks
even shouts some passages
poem based in
pigment and oil
at the end
everyone is exhausted
something happened
beyond the reasonable
control of evolution
MuseumofSoph Dec 2021
I’ve made a decision finally


Turns out I don’t fit in for a reason
I work everyday not by the season

I hope my family understands
That it’s not up to them

And I hope I do well without it
I think I will?

My guardian angel keeps leaving me signs

I finished a whole slide show for a final only to lose it
I saved it and everything, did nothing wrong
Yet somehow it disappeared
Isn’t that weird?

I’m overloaded from overworking
College isn’t fun when you can’t afford it

I’m already broke so why spend money ?

I’ve been homeless before for free
I’m not afraid to be poor.

I’ll make money the unconventional way
I know I can

I will be a writer, a director, a designer, and more

Fame cannot define my success
I do this to express myself.

I have an art history final at 8:00 am,
wish me luck!

Now that I know I’m leaving a weight has been taken off my shoulders

No more trying to remove the boulder from the cave, If I’m not there it’s a sign to not behave

Stop fitting in to what society says
Gain some independence

Before there was university, there were the artists

Edgar Allen Poe
Vincent Van Gough

Sophia Karis Coe.

The last one,
That’s my name.

I didn’t chose it
It’s not a coincidence
I’ve been made for this.
Realizing my true potential
Shevaun Stonem Dec 2021
The masterful stroke of an artist’s hands
Comes from broken fingers and cut wrists
Hands that have been dragged through hell
And rested in heaven,
That creates real mastery.
MuseumofSoph Dec 2021
I’ve been reading your poems for years
What can I say I’m a fan

You might not be famous
But to me you’re in the books
As one of the greatest

A true poet
They know what struggle is

The healthcare system
Too opinionated

What was created?

I can see there’s still light in this lost boy
He just needs a spirit guide

I’ll be by your side
If only in your dreams

To keep you safe
Through the storm
A letter to one of my favorite poets
Next page