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a mystery to fathom in a famous frame
smiling from canvas with story to tell
oh lady of the portrait oh lady of fame
the painter captured your face so well
those who study art ponder and ruminate
on the enigmatic pose that doth beguile
no brush strokes conveying your mind state
angles inspected of daubed profile
yet the secret stays ever concealed
baffling them all with slightly turned lip
nothing of the puzzle being so revealed
closeted away in an artist's dip
Leonardo da Vinci yielded scant insight
on masterfully shading the subject's light
Poetic T Jan 2018
We are pretty pictures
             under hollow frames.

Never realizing that which
                          holds us together.

Is just as important than
                                what people see,
when were momentarily observed.
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2018
In every moment, don't forget to smile.
Do pray to feel the first kiss of every breath.
And in each moment I'll return the favor.
Covering the picture of your face.
Frame to frame.
Our eyes the glass that protects each memory.
A sweet smile that becomes the entrance of life itself.
Ambitiously half lifted eyes crinkled around the corners.
In every moment, don't forget to smile
and I'll return the favor.
Life is too short to let these moments go in vain
Britney Lyn Jan 2018
You never cared, you didn't dare.
I was a storm with a temper,
You, an ocean with barely a wave.
When I came in on a roar of thunder,
Your gentle surface unable to save,
You crashed and darkened, the ships all sank,
I caused you all this destruction,
But you caused me a great ache.
You truly cared, and here I dare,
To love something so peaceful when I was untamed.
That I broke the heart of an innocent girl,
Because she ruined a boy with a perfect frame.
I wrote this poem through the eyes of a girl who has framed a boy into being the bad guy when in all reality she was the one who ruined him.

I feel that this happens a lot in today's society. The boy is always blamed, the girl does nothing wrong. But that is not always the case.
In this poem a women comes into this mans life and they fall in love. She is faced with the doubt that he does not really love her, that he doesn't care for her, but he does. She does not see this until it's too late and she blames him for the death of their love. She broke her own heart by enforcing doubt and gave the man a bad reputation.

He was perfect, she could picture their future so well she could "frame" it and hang it on the wall, and she "framed" him but painting him to be someone was not.
Vale Luna Nov 2017
I welcome psychotic breakdowns
Ugly crying
Violent arguments
And overwhelming bad news

Don’t worry
Each disturbing moment
Is just a chapter in my story
A short clip
In the kaleidoscope montage
That is my reality

Capture a heart wrenching moment
In three second bursts
And repeat
Until there's an hour of footage
So when it's done
Twenty years will have passed
From the first moment
To the last

In a futures world
I'll be better off
In a successful career
Traveling the world
Not famous enough to be recognized
But known enough to be quoted
For a line of my solemn life
To be an everyday phrase
Recounting my memories to strangers
Creating inspiration for the broken

Freeze frame.
And rewind.
Because this isn't my movie.

I'm in someone else's tale
No matter how tragic my back story is
I'll stay locked in
As a background character
A bully?
A victim?
A destroyer?
A teacher?
An enemy?
A friend?
Will they know I'm their co-star?
Will they make room for me on screen?
Will they even notice my presence?

I'll be forgotten
Lost in a sea of miniscule roles
So these disturbing moments
Won't be reduced to three seconds
And there'll be no Twenty years later flash forward
I'll be stuck in every second
Forever pushed to the sidelines
Forever questioning
If the next person I meet
Will be the main character
In this movie I'm trapped in
Izlecan Oct 2017
Thou ***** a minute of adversity,
stumping on the rival with two eyes;
As if an innundation overwhelms the ground
As thou hush the gore splattered
Arid as the utopic vision of the crowds
Everyone has accepted death
Noone bears the sound of the knell:
Thou shall still be petrified by the dark!
Shall miss a moment of ironic cleft:
Where thou tackle on mundanity and self bereft
Condolences to whomever has passed:
Away from a madness that clenches a crowd of no tomorrow, without a promise of longevity,
For they have given in to a visionary of death.
Zauditu Sep 2017
They do say confession is good for the soul... But confession is just a ***** guilty ******* .  A scornful man who aches with grief  and don't know where to put it ..So why not spill it ? Why not tell it all?  I bet you fear to be condemned .. To be judged in the eyes of the ones who  you love. So you speak half truth .. To be at Peace ..To sleep at night  ,you admit of sinful thoughts and deeds you have wrapped and fold up under your sleeves. Those deceitful tricks and schemes that you plot unseen.. Those lies and flaws that you hide skillfully ... You cover them up with red petals of roses ...  And lock them away with rusty old chains and padlocks . Confess what?  To whom? Does it matter if it is right ? But I bet , you , you confession, is nothing  but a pretentious ,well put together lie.
Randall Walker Sep 2017
Has their ever been an original thought?
I swear everything I say
Has either been broken, stolen, or bought.
And I rot with the shame of it,
Feeling I falsely carve in my name.
I’m trying to find the right path
On this road to fame,
Citing a hundred-plus peeps a day,
Though on the real,
Those just the ones I can name.

In this game,
These bouncing ***** just                            on back,
                                                      bounce
My eyes are bouncing,
I’ll get the knack.
The frame constructed
Of things to come,
My vision obstructed,
Well, isn’t this fun?
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