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Tint Feb 15
I tried to learn to paint
when my left hand is still bare
with all of the sanctity
that I tearfully held

It cut through my wrists
and my palm, it's ragged edge
still I held onto the brush
as I tried to image paint

For this time they're not lies
my goddess will not cry
for this time I won't bide
to the words my heart commads

So I'll paint, do teach me
how to grip your thorny brush
sworn someday, this forsaken mind
will have a masterpiece in hand
Blood oath
karly codr Jan 29
a thin brush
painting small circles
on denim
steady hand
steady
stop shaking
finished
hi i'm back. i'm working on painting the back of a jean jacket I have and this just sort of came to me... anyway... it kind of ***** but whatever
Xaela San Jan 2019
Her paintbrush is a blessing, a tool for her bleeding heart to be painted on the empty canvas.
Jupiter Dec 2018
the way she swayed and leaped
embodying the strokes of a paintbrush
dancing across the canvas
a solid blur of pink and white

every twirl was breathless
every plié like silk

in that moment,
she existed as the most elegant force alive

every move commanded attention
she was grace
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
The sun is with the paintbrush
ambling down the river blue.
See, your eyes are the mirror
in between the earth and sky duo.

Bask in the open air theatre
eye on spread out with colour.
Indulge in, with a slice of summer
you got the brightest star, the light
on your canvas, you got the clue.
Now draw your way through
art yours in between the two!
A poem from my upcoming book Qun: Love is Unconditional
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Wide open are your arms  
the sun is a small paintbrush  
every daybreak it draws  
exposes you as new as ever!  
  
The surges in the billows  
blow out swimming clouds  
across the globe.  
No they don’t splash out to  
the starry thrillers on the sky  
they all are a dwarf bunch  
draws down to you kind Moon:  
Down to earth on the ground  
spares the heap for all
for the day for the noon.  
  
Then you are there too
far afar, where is nothing
but you the lotus in bloom
on uncharted water.  
Who can describe it better  
everyone is lost for words!
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
It’s a coloured and shaded broad daylight.
Bring me my hourglass, my paintbrush.
Keeping a timepiece, how soon my brush
strokes become finer it is not the task.
Try once more, strike a fine chord in time,
ever ticking but doesn't make a sound!  

Let’s read the small prints, the shadow lines
on the pitch of the slit sun shines!
A dark spot in the light, some dotted lines
on a blank paper, however witty you might
describe it, count on the tweeting birds
short and cute, singing in the open air.

Light and dark the two tallies, ins and outs.
The times come and go, flowing fine.
For now, let’s take a look inside.
Tint and shade nor tone them now.
Zoom in and out, just watch them as they are.

This cool sleek shade on the sunny slate
is it a shadow, or some quivering curly hairs
or are these reflections of flocking clouds,
diligent sea eyeing deep down on the ground?
Read the small prints, shadows in the daylight,
before the show is wrapped up.
And down the evening pool, the sun
parts away with the black swan.
han Dec 2017
I’ve looked up in awe
my heart nearly bursts
it’s beating so rapidly
because this is beauty
& I get to witness it
I am humbled
by the beauty
I am so small
& so are my worries
This gives me inspiration
The same hand
which sculpted these mountains
and painted these stars
Will carry me through
I am so happy to be alive
& to have a purpose
December 8th~han
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