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Ciara Jones Jul 2018
A painted mirror
With the image of love
Only intended to show her exterior
No matter the size of the shove

They pick spitefully
Tossing flecks of dried work
But she responds oh so delightfully
Forgetting her crafted worth

Born to show others an image they'd like to perceive
Dead to have not even the maker grieve
Caroline Jacobs Jul 2018
If there was one word to describe how I'm feeling
I would write it all over the walls
I would paint it on all sidewalks and streets
I would scream it from the roof of every building
I would tell it to every person and let them know I am human. And I matter.
Maxim Keyfman Jul 2018
today's ships sailed in the fog and all floated
and the light burned and the light went out and the
light was on and everything was on fire
the moon was in the sky and the stars and the sun
and clouds and fog
even apples in front were even apples burned like stars
the boats were floating today in the fog and everyone
was swimming and swimming
and the sea rocked swaying in the wind my huge rocked
and the mirrors broke and the mirrors spread out to small
small grains of light and darkness of night tasty light
on ships they will never stop and they all swim and swim
and paint brushes and paint them paint and canvas appear
they emerge from nowhere from where
yes yes yes yes yes my ships yes
and the lamp is not set that she did not know what to do today


fog spread through the corridors fog flood our ears and eyes
and that in my eyes that in your eyes oh crystals are hidden
about in the eyes of the unknown in the eyes of death and the birth of death
and what is death, what is birth, and no one knows
floated swammed in a distant ocean in the distant ocean which
consisted of stars and planets of stars and planets and marine environments
floated ships sailed in the distant ocean and my eyes burned and eyes
My burned and then again and again faded as never happened
what is ashes what is the disappearance and nobody nobody nobody
does not even know just everyone knows about the ships of the sea
which so many times rush in this ocean of the sea which all
clouds in the way they devoured and devoured forever
about floating floating in the sea wonderful gold ships starry ours

07.07.18
Truly Lustful Jul 2018
Drip Drop
The sound of rain
Drip Drop
The sound of paint
Drip Drop
The sound of blood

Trickle Trickle
Down my face
Trickle Trickle
Down my arms
Trickle Trickle
From my heart
Gale L Mccoy Jul 2018
voices sound better
in descent / in distance
cut off from the source
distorted / dissonant
unsalvagable from another
  
i listen to poetry in stairwells
paint faces from sounds
so the real thing never compares
day 2 of 31 days of poetry
K N Brown Jul 2018
I paint with vibrant hues

in hopes the immense colors

will stain my hands

and seep into my soul

but

the tints always dull into shades

and I reverse to the nothingness
Elinor Jun 2018
you were never an artist.
I tied your hands behind your back,
placed a paintbrush between your teeth
and forced you to paint us a picture perfect dream.
the colour was never rich enough
and the sun never cast gold beams
in the direction we wanted them,
or as bright as they could have
if I just learnt to paint on my own.
I will learn in time
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