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Arisa Mar 2019
I paint the picture with pastel colors.
Dotting the sky in pink clouds
While the horizon lay in an amber slumber.
A single pine tree slanted towards the crystal lake;
I draw another for companionship.
And it soon blooms into a forest
With shrubs and blackberry bushes and ferns,
Then I make a ripple in the lake
With leaves that drift along the gentle current
To the farther edges of the tender loch.

I envisioned the clear waters of the wetlands
As I cleaned my pallet and washed away the paint,
Like how painting landscapes washed away my worries.
I'm sure you saw a completely different image to what I actually painted. You are such a unique, beautiful creature.
Heavy Hearted Mar 2019
Lonely day and solemn night
Guide this pallett to the light
& Let the fear and need create
What words cannot communicate

The Painter;

a slave to love and duty,
Passionate anguish;
Desire and beauty.
self poem vs self portrait

Poems pointed with meaning while paintings uniquely described certain feeling s
Rose Mar 2019
a snapshot in time
i knew in that moment
you didn’t know my heart
but in that small moment
we were an endless stream
of warmth spinning by our eyes
colors blending into paint
and these hearts
for a moment
reached
those times where if feels like you connect- really connect. but sometimes nothing can stop the spell from breaking.
Mazen Edlibi Feb 2019
I found those papers in my drawers!
Knowing my own words, would make it easy to feel their belonging to me!
Tried to paint the landscape I dreamt of…
Tried to place my hope of joy and peace in its corner…
I can’t find my true color…
I can’t find the details that speaks me…
I realized I have  a picture of my world painted by others colors…
I realized I don’t own that painting

23-10-2018
Karli Z Feb 2019
They were laid in the road and ****** to death.
Seemingly innocent sins of yesterday yanked
Them from the pedestal stacked high
With promise. Stolen glances stuck
To eyes so warm, so soft, so quick
To deny. Quick to forgive his fault
Of the heart for carving Scarlet
Letters into the skin of young girls.
Kale Feb 2019
He is as hopeless as flying a kite made of clouds.
Now, some may say that that was impossible, improbable.
Some may even call it magical.
He did not see it that way.

In his eyes, he was as useful as a fraying rope.
Always on the edge of breaking,
Unstable.

His chest felt empty,
As if the dust left from his shattered heart had finally blown away.
The only thing there was his ribcage,
Trapping lungs that barely worked.

He believed he was hopeless.

To her, that was not the case.

She took his soul and painted grey and blue skies,
And used her own soul to glue him back together.

She flew her cloud kite proudly through the sky,
Doing tricks and running with it,
Smiling the whole time.

He is as hopeless as flying a kite made of clouds.

He is not hopeless.
Asominate Feb 2019
Unrealistic-
Expectations
Sends me ballistic,
I can't function!

Animalistic-
The beast in me won't stay in its grave!

A mental misfit-
Tell me am I too much to save?

These pastel colours are painted on my life pallet:
Love and Laughter,
Rage and Regret
The memories I'm after
The memories I want to forget
The red and blues are abused

These aren't the colours I should see!
How could I tell you?
You never come through-
It is killing me
I'm at the point where it hurts so much I hurt myself
Don't you understand the meaning of 'help'?
annh Feb 2019
paint fell off the back
of a sky-high lorry - whoops!
splattered onto earth
16,000 feet below
5-7-5-7
Tiger Striped Feb 2019
you were the first brushstrokes
in the backdrop of my painting
the tangling colors,
colliding like comets
against an inky black sky
every day, with your knife you
peeled away the paint
leaving shadows
in the shape of you
i did not notice
until you were too far gone
the blackness
where your vividness had once been
i felt it
at the core of my being
you can pretend
you were never here
you can pretend
love and hate are miles apart
but i still hold the scraps of that painting
the canvas with
your footprints and
your tire marks and
the smears from your fingers
and i still feel you
at the tips of my fingers
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