Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Hunter Green Mar 13
Into this cloud of canvas I could fall,
Shaping my emotions like treasures on the wall.
Like a deathly hunger I cannot ignore the roar,
It deafens with its deceiving grin,
So loud in silent reality,
So bright in dark decree.
Fleeting forests fountaining, feelings flourishing,
Sacred sunsets sadly singing salutations.
Nimble notes noticed near nassaus nothingness.
Is it evil that paints this mural of my heaven?
The paint on the inside of my skull never dries,
before another coat drenches the lofty skies.
Yesterday, clouds gathered in the sky
Covering the sun,
Yesterday, I saw the ravens fly
I saw the squirrels run.

The wind stormed on the walls in rage
Her fury knew no bounds,
Violently she rattled the cage
Of the **** hounds.

She flew from tree to tree
Unsettling its leaves and flowers,
A hive that sheltered a swarm of honeybee
Fell in the pond, for the frogs to devour.

A thunderclap echoed from a distance
A prelude to what is to come,
Shattering everything in existence
Leaving everything numb.

Enveloped in darkness
The canvas was coloured grey and black,
It had an air of stillness
Yet, there was something that it lacked.

And then it started to rain
On the brown soil of the small town,
Easing the pain
That was hidden behind the smile of a clown.










Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2019.
All Rights Reserved.
As usual, I leave the interpretations to you.
AJ Feb 9
I was handed a palette full of vibrant colours and asked to paint my home.

I painted for hours, and then I took a step back only to realize that I painted your arms.
astrid Feb 8
I lay down
your creamy expanse
unto the marble surface,
as if milk made love with
the stars in the galaxies.

I write you out
as pleasant simmer
of pulverized charcoal
and bloated glycerine.

I splatter and spread
fine dusts of Carica
in temperate motion
to touch the sleek edges
of the vanilla branches
on your person.

I hold and dip
my feathery digit
amongst rose water
to grasp the flowers
that frames your face,
like light morganites
that hail from the west.

I cast you off
as the blue sea engulfs
the life from the waters
where life swims with
stable beginnings
and whirlwinds of stories.

I finish you
by letting molten pearls
lither your dark onyx orbs,
surrounded by your lakes of gelatinous almond,
like shooting comets
finding rest on land,
as lightning's faint and close
but never quite touch.

I made you
with intrinsic detail and rawness
to give you the life
that you may never have.
may these words show its own form of art.

090219; 07:29 --- revison due to incompleteness from original file
Liam Peare Feb 4
You are the light, I am the night.
You are the telescope, I am the subject.

You are the root, I am the fruit.
You are the branch, I am the leaves.

You are the reader, I am the book.
You are the writer, I am the words.

You are the canvas, I am the brush.
You are the skin, I am the blade.

- priam ; twist
Maha Feb 3
Art
i was a canvas
with all of my colors, i ask
what have you painted?
About me.
Maryee Jan 30
you were the artist
and
you needed a canvas
so I will let you use my body
only if you make a museum out of it
Next page