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AM May 2016
there is a certainty inside your eyes
that makes me want to buy a canvas
and just write every single detail
of happiness you brought for me
until the white paper becomes black
cause I spill all the ink on earth
about the way you kiss me every 5 mins
the way you lose control like a kid
the way you smell like sugar rush
the way your joke hurts my belly
and the way you are
perfectly
fits me
Julia Mae May 2016
91.
there's a blank white canvas
because today i decided there needed to be
there's empty space
where i choose
which colors i want
and which ones i don't want
and i am the only one
who controls all of the brush strokes
i can paint you in,
or i can paint you out
i need to create
somewhere nice for myself
take me somewhere nice
where i have decided to be
take me to this place
where i chose my own happy ending
listening to Take Me Somewhere Nice by Mogwai.
Spenser Bennett May 2016
Speak grace into the canvas of my silent heart
Words of love and musical laughter part from your gold velvet lips
Strength enough to carry away pain and suffering from my weary eyes
Speak grace into the canvas of my silent heart

Dance like fire wild in the ink drop watercolor night
Passion stained cheeks glow from beneath lovers eyes
Sparks soar higher than the thunder head eagles play
Dance like fire wild in the ink drop watercolor night

Breath soft as the world settles slow and rise with the lazy star heat
Forget the troubles of days behind and look for warmth in my furnace chest
Delicate sighs of whispered vows tremble about the air
Breath soft as the world settles slow and rise with the lazy star heat

Speak grace into the canvas of my silent heart
Words of love and musical laughter part from your gold velvet lips
Strength enough to carry away pain and suffering from my weary eyes
Speak grace into the canvas of my silent heart
Ákos Domonyi Apr 2016
I would scream and I would shout, if I could.
My lungs would break my throat would burn out.
The mirror on the dazzling night sky is silent this time.
It vowed it would be, the day I said I would not.

However I am silent all the same, and I've no more to give.
My soul is spent, the childlike wonder, the reason to laugh.
As I lay on the wet grass in the upside down forest,
I fall through the trees and I merge with the rest.

I stand up tall as I float in the air, just like it was meant to be.
And when I look to the sky for the last time, with weary eyes
I remember all the wonders its canvas held in another era of our kind.
Its paint is now dry and old, but you can still see how those tales were told.

With gorgeous colors applied through graceful lines, vivid movements in your mind.
You need not look to the sky, just hold this canvas close to your heart.
See that shading and that carefully painted figure with the luminescent eyes?
Look to the details that you really do hold close to your life.
MOTV Apr 2016
Motivate through art and paint
I mean even a bare one can wait
And through time show how beautiful and intertwined endless moments bring feelings sublime
all I could think is I got to rhyme
my head and my feelings need be so deep
my thoughts and my motivation need to make the reapers weep
I need I must I will own that cash
I need I must I will own that ***
Hustlin hustlin for more than just the money
Hustlin, Hustlin the filling, is lovely
Hold them up with work that shows your dominance
Fold them up like clean laundry to show your confidence
Secret Poet Mar 2016
This blank canvas mocks me as I stare blanklessly at it.
why can't I be an artist?
Noah A Baker Mar 2016
So there I was, and there you were, all of us,
everyone, dangling their feet off the rooftop.
Four distinctly different artists caught in the same painting
yet, none of us holding the paintbrush to our passions, yet.

Ambitious, yes, focused, not so much, motivated? Most definitely.

Dedicated to manipulation,
to making a masterpiece for the masses,
a decision to "form a more perfect union".  
To map a new demographic before our deaths.

If our desire was to make a mark, well,
we'd be done already.
The mark's been made, but not engraved,
and for it to stay we need to stomp on it until our own foot decays.

And these days, most pictures will fade,
So as us four sat there, dancing with the devil,
we dared to begin drafting on our canvas.
With no brush, but our own fingers,
our own blood, sweat, tears, and elbow grease,
finally finding the paintbrush to be figurative,
that we were manipulated ourselves.

We learned to picture the paintbrush as our pointer,
our palms the palettes, our pinkies the varnish,
a promise our piece would never be vandalized.

The world is your oyster, they say,
and the city was our canvas,
where we painted nothing but pearls,
rare commodities for the communities to cherish
until our masterpiece, the indefinite work in progress, is completed.
background:
we always struggle with pursuing what we want to do due to us believing we can't, or lack of resources, that we don't have what it takes, etc. And that's more or less fear making you think that. Once you let go of the fear in your head you can chase your dreams and passions. Once you realize that it's just a mental block, and you remove it, the world is yours to do what you want. Enjoy!
Esther Mar 2016
the words hide between the lines
i can't see
none will appear, none
will grace the page
only splatter red paint
onto the ****** canvas—
where i have bled out my soul, my heart,
my flesh and bone—

and for what?
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