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Phia Oct 8
She covers her body in art
Hoping one day someone will look at her
And think her beautiful
Katelyn Rew Mar 13
Trace my curves in charcoal,
Sketch my lines in lead,
Fill in all my shadows,
As I lie naked on this bed.
Warm my hues in pastels,
Draw in every part,
Adore me with your paint brush,
Turn my body into art.
Mrs Timetable Oct 2022
I can see the
Unfinished man
In pencil
That drawing that's missing
The outline of you
The curves of you forming
But still not whole
Still seeing who you might be
What moves you make
I can even see where
You have been erased
Mistakes have been drawn over
Paper is worn a little
Even torn
I'll be patient
I'll wait
For you to fill in
Get your lines straight
For you to be complete

Drawn in ink
Inspired by my nieces incomplete anatomy drawings in pencil
Mrs Timetable Feb 2022
Drawn by the sadness of time
Minutes of repeated striations
Hours of wounded sketching
Days draining color
Outstare me...I dare you
Survey my damage
Morphing into
A dueling masterpiece
For the young artist
hazem al jaber Jun 2021
Drawing you ...

what could i write ...
what could i say more ...
how can i ...
draw you by letters ...
is this a face ...
or it's a sparkling  moon ...
sends it lights ...
or it's mix of stars ...
to make your beautiful face ...

tell me how could ...
i draw you sweetheart ...
even the most great artist  ...
never could do ...
so , i ...
how would i describe ...
with my poor pen ...
it never get brave to do ...
is it dare ...
even me ...
can't do ...
as what you are ...

how to draw ...
a face ..
a beautiful face ...
as this space ...
has the most beautiful stars ...
and those rays of sparkle ...
from your charming eyes ...
which they as a well mellow ...
it just exploded to stream  ...
with it sweet wet water ..
to irrigate a thirsty land ...

Oh sweetheart ..
how could my pen do...
nor me ...
how to draw you ...
to draw the most sweet face ...
that i adored ...
since i got ...
the first kiss ..

could i do ...
i will try ...

hazem al ...
Justin Lai May 2021
A boy, sketching

         His friends, fellow neighbours, skinny dipping

This is not the first time,
      but what is indeed new are the imprints
                                  of streams, droplets;
                                        yelps, giggles;
                      the force of a tumbling body,
                                   or limbs on limbs,
    shivers and waves in his very young heart.

       He finds his nib forming strange contours,
               fingers tracing the imprints as much as his
                  eyes could picture,

          only to tear the paper, later,
             ripping out a flat, grimacing tangle of lines,
                   his friend, grotesque on canvas.

     Night beckons;
              his sketch, made anew, alive as
                     he lay within burgeoning wants
                           that he never wished
Soundtrack: Alexandra Stréliski - Plus tôt
Brumous Apr 2021
I'll let go of this pencil
that continues to draw this
head filled with imagination

"behead me,"
and bring the endless ache of being
an insufficient being;
in this ideal world

'filled with feelings, pens & paint,'
it irks me that I make no sense

I hate that I'm not perfect like her.
gen Mar 2021
the ones that constantly play on my mind,
now etched inside his head
he'd make you feel profound things
converting a blank page into a room full of thoughts and visualizations
waiting to be filled with intention
by the way his fingertips graze over canvas
strokes, hues, and lines
every exquisite detail
the lead scraping across the paper
shadows that protrude the overall portrait
contemplating to contrast the grays
forming vivid illustrations no one would ever envision
the paper comes to life before my eyes
it's like he never had to use his own hands
to touch each & every part of me
i only see him in monochrome
but he penetrates me with all kinds of hues

i hope he realizes that he himself, is art. my art.
4 ya
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