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Edgar E Tobias Jul 2015
I was only given so much to go around, but it must show
Because all the waitress in all the towns, act as if they already know
Always flashing that concerned, half-turned smile
When they call me "Darling" and whisper, "Will you be stayin' a while?"

I'm not sure if it's out of habit or respect?
But I always do it, do what manners expect
Look up with what part of me is left
Smile back but I think of you instead

When I'm with my family
And they shower me with love
I can't help and wonder, "How do they all do it?
Care so much for everyone..."

Do they only give out smaller bits?
A fraction of the painting
So when they all come together
All the pieces seem to fit, to form something amazing

Its almost impossible replicate
Each person's own vision and version of love.
Breaking it like all the rest is one thing that I refuse
So instead I give it all away, every last bit and piece to you.
Want to make some changes but its as close to how I want it to be than it will ever come.
Liz Jul 2015
I swing my sword
At the monster inside me.
But the blade has been blunted,
It's dull and cannot ****.
What is a warrior without her sword?
Joan of Arc without her horse?

Stripped of my valor,
In the middle of war.
I do not have the means to fight anymore.
Left bare to the sun.
Where arrows can pierce
And daggers can jab.

Trying to create an image,
Which seemed so vivid before.
All my paint is dull
And all my canvas broken.
What is an artist without his brush?
Van Gogh without his hands?

The pain he must feel
When losing his only muse.
He lives through art,
So dies if he cannot paint.
I live through words,
I die if I cannot write.

Now god you've taken my legs.
How do I live,
When I cannot stand.
I fear I've lost my only light.
I fear I'm out of muse.
With nothing more to say.

Like a warrior without her sword.
Van Gogh without his hands.
My words are my legs,
And I cannot stand.
Mallow Jun 2015
Sometimes the pencil just draws and the brush just swoops…they go in the opposite direction that you want them to but a new picture is created, one that does not resemble the object being drawn/painted but a picture that looks further than the object itself and draws its essence instead.
Looking into things not past them
Everything is more than it seems
Rue G Jun 2015
i tried to write a poem
a poem just for You
but when i sought to find the words
like hummingbirds, they flew!

i tried to bake some cookies
a dozen, just for You
but before they hit the oven
we'd shared the yummy goo

i tried to paint a picture
a picture just for You
but the colors all ran out of line
like sunlight through the dew

i tried to plant a garden
wildflowers, just for You
but when i'd tilled and sown the soil
too tall for me they grew!

i tried to find a treasure
a treasure just for You
but when i looked inside the chest
i found a gift from You

i tried to tell a story
a mystery, just for You
but when i lost the villain's trail
'twas You who found the clue

i tried to catch some fireflies
green starlight, just for You
but you smiled, and set the lightning free
when i brought my lamp to You

i tried to find the perfect shell
a conch shell, just for You
but all i found were little stars
who tickled like You do!

i tried to find an angel
an angel just for You
but when i told her who You were
she said "you can't have two"

i tried to catch a falling star
a wish, made just for You
but when i did, You said "My dear,
all I've wished for is in you…"

i tried to write a poem
a poem just for You
this time i found all the words
to tell the world of You
written in 2010
Nikita Jun 2015
Tell me
What do you love to do?
What makes you happy?
Whats your favourite food?
Do you like to draw or paint?

Because life isnt just about work, relationships and media
Life is about creating yourself
And creating a life to remember
To look back on and *smile
The day arrived, the sun was out
The sky was perfect, calm
All was as it should be
No resistance 'fore the storm
A winter gone, a spring in bloom
Things were as things should be
Fresh paint and banners hung out
For all the world to see
Bunting just the way it was
On days like this before
It showed off baseball's history
No less and nothing more
The lines were crisp and dedicated
The foul lines and the fair
The team logos were painted
Silence hung in the spring air
A church for fifty thousand
To revere this game they'll see
And if each single seat is filled
There'll be fifty thousand forty three
The boys of summer own this field
New history shall be made
While fans scream for their favorites
As the game is being played
A chess game on such pristine grass
At this park it's real
At others you will find that it
Is plastic...and lacks feel
The players, some are new as well
They were not here last year
The owners changed the line ups so
Your favorites are not here
Fathers, sons, and daughters
Share this circus every spring
It's a rite of family passage
To most a holy thing
New jerseys, hats and banners
Showing where alliegance lies
There is no joy in Mudville
As each person chooses sides
The umpires, too, begin anew
They must be on the ball
Today's game is most scrutinized
You cannot miss a call
The sense of pomp and circumstance
In this annual ceremony
Breaks out all of the rituals
In a loud cacophony
The teams announced and anthems sung
Color parties raise the flags
This is what baseball's all about
Home plate and three new bags
The smell of ******* jack and beer
Hot dogs and candy corn
Soon start to infiltrate the park
And they break up this fresh morn
The players sit below now
Waiting for the game to start
Cliche speeches break the air
As the managers play their part
It's time to all get ready
Put this years "uni" on
And to rid your self of buttlerflies
And get that feeling gone
You check yourself before hand
Make sure that the outfits good
And you go over the ground rules
And know exactly what you should
Your'e as important to this game now
You are the holder of their fate
For your job is most important
You let the patrons though the gate
The actors in this rite of spring
Are varied in their roles
From players, umps and concessioneirs
They all make baseball whole
The opening of each season
Shows off every single team
From the players out there on the field
To the ones behind the scenes.
You put your best foot forward
Because you want them all to say
That baseball is just special
Because of Opening Day.
For those of you who like baseball
Saskia B Jun 2015
A glimpse of blond and shadow,
tall and hunched.
I would paint him as a morning sun,
a blood orange with pinks and golds,
my strokes would be soft
like the blush on his
cheekbones and
the indentations beside his mouth.
I would paint his face a grey,
like clouds that are confused, swirling
and whirling but
amused by the slightest thing.
As I near his chest, I
would paint his heart a purple, so dark and deep,
juxtaposing his bashful smile and *****
blond hair.
The 5 o'clock shadow
spreading its graceful limbs along
his angular jaw,
I would paint a mauve brown,
reflecting the days
of nerves and sadness
as his red-stained lips drop, the smile
gone.
Like the knock of an elbow,
harsh and sharp, eyes
seeing stars, the pain is all consuming
at first, all he can think about and then
the ground stills, the sky is pink,
the grass
a burnt yellow.
I would paint his face blue.
MsAmendable Jun 2015
Red paint dries on a tissue
Slowly
The same rush hue
Glazes imperceptibly
Gently losing shine
And carefully dulls without change
And softly hardens until dry,
When you can touch it without fear
of red fingers, red clothes, red smears
But still, wasted paint on a tissue
Will be thrown away without notice
And still dry red.
Rockie Jun 2015
Painting in the secrets
Of a thousand lies
Is fun
As you get to paint in
How you see those lies

Let's paint our hair red
Of a thousand fires
So fun,
As you get to paint it
How you really want to

Aggressively painting canvases
Of a thousand depictions
It's fun
As you get to paint whatever
How you really see it

*Let's go paint something, sister.
Together.
I was listening to Paramore's 'Ain't It Fun' and the video/Hayley's hair inspired me, so...A poem!
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