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pk tunuri Apr 2019
Every child is an artwork of God
He chose this world, as his canvas

Men & Women are his brushes
He painted with love, as his medium

Every child is special
Every special child is God's own child

Making a difference for such a child is a blessing
Making them smile may change your/their world

Let's aspire!
Let's inspire!!
Kavya Mukhija Mar 2019
Red
I loved to paint.
The walls of my little room, thus
Were dolled up with an exhibition of my art work
My mother tells me that I spent
Hours at the stationery shops,
Buying paints, brushes,
And every other pretty looking material
To create my own little gallery of colour blotches.
From stick figures to trees and birds
It moved on to pretty, cheerful woman and flowers.
Ten years and a few days later,
I still visit my childhood fascination
And see the brush kissing the white paper in broad daylight.
It leaves behind
a trail of red;
Imitating us.
Paper turned out to be a better absorber of my sorrow
Than human beings.
So when nights became sleepless,
Days lonelier,
And I, unhappier,
I took to my friends and painted my distress,
an orange sunset and love birds heading back home.
The blue of the sky was amiss
Because it was on my skin
So when my blue body turned purple
And your hand hardened,
I held the brush in between my fingers
That stung with cherry sweet pain,
And painted
The walls, the sketch pad, whatever could soak in
My sorrow.
Now when it has been seventeen days since
You went missing,
The walls make up for your absence
For whose blood would have been redder
To grace the reddish sunrise on the wall, dear husband?

- Kavya Mukhija
MJL Mar 2019
Sitting in a bowl of fruit
I hold a flower
Paint me with vivid colors
Make me look pretty
Or possibly as a reverent clown
With big floppy feet
In a contemporary return to classics
For the world to look and ask
"What did the artist mean with that banana, and why is that clown sitting on peaches holding a tulip?"


© 2019 MJL
Just a play on the definition of still life and contemporary art.... More than what people paint us to be.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2019
Just a moment with a rose
that may come with a dew or so!
Ah, thousand and one fairy nymphs
wait for that sweet mo.

That moment painting the sky all blue
the sun hanging low
down the cool rainbow
will roll into an upspring water drop.

Oh, save a dew on the rose
if only one knew from
what a spring does it float!
Mystic Ink Plus Mar 2019
You never knew
You got
All the colors
The world
Ever
Craved

Adore
The truth
Genre: Romantic
Theme: Paint you, Blue | Paint you, Red | Paint you, Green
Loser Mar 2019
All of my friends describe their lives with color,
creating vivid displays of emotion and art,
and if I were to pour my soul into one of these displays,
and brush a canvas with my words,

I guess I would start somewhere with the negative.

A midnight blue finds itself on my brush when an emptiness is present,
and a touch of this hue mixed with a granite gray soon becomes the loneliness, almost always paired with the melancholy.
My brush shifts upwards towards violet and juniper green, and I find myself becoming more content with being alone.

Then I paint the anger,
The crimson red and fire orange penetrate the mellow colors of depression and point fingers at others.
With each brush stroke I torch another bridge, leaving my friends in ashes and my pride untouched.
Black streaks of hatred stain my canvas and my love while I try my best to calm down.
And once the rage dries up and settles, and we get past my mindless mistakes, I move on to the positive side of my art.

Light greens and yellows dance upon the blank white canvas while I Paint Summer nights and pastel skylines.
Shades of sapphire pass by when Laughing with all of my friends and adoring her perfect freckled face.
These colorful drugs course through my thoughts, and leave me with a love for life and a honest smile.

I wear these hues at different times, and drench myself in the life they give,
painting canvases and promises for others, and living in a world of my own colors.
Accenting pain, sorrow, and sadness. Punctuating love, joy, and living .


                                                 My words.
                                                 My canvas.
                                                 My beloved.
                                                 My life.
I tried to use color to express emotion. please give all feedback. I'm quite new to all this. Thanks!
Steve Page Mar 2019
Lichtenstein crashed into Monet's garden under the mistaken impression that a pulse of pop would compliment the oil on water, but instead his WHAAM missed its target and his POW wept hot, bleaching the aqua white with noise and ripping the lilies to shreds.
'Oh, Claude,' he cried, 'it's a masterpiece!'
Prompted by a friend's painting which looked just like this.
Jenna Mar 2019
Home.
Is surrounded
by the
paintings
on the walls
Judging,
Fleeting,
and
Trapping.
Jenna Mar 2019
Faces painted all around
but they made no sound
Seeking glass eyes found;
Open book kept bound
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