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Coralie Marie May 29
On a soft July evening he paints a garden path,
lined with all the flowers she admires. He dabs tarnished lanterns on canvas, so she'd walk safely in gentle light. The brushstroke blows her goodbye kisses as she passes by and finally he sets amber accents into the twinkling of her eyes.
fariha Mar 6
NO NO NO NOO!!
he shouted,
panicked, he grabbed his brushes,
with cold sweats running through his body,
his shaking hands,
start to stroke the canvas aimlessly,
he keep shouting,
"no NO!I will never forget",
her beautiful face,
her complexion,
her perfect lips,
and most importantly,
her crimson serene eyes,
that saved him,
100 years ago;
years passed,
and her face never remains the same.
I gaze the wheat field
gusts of wind erupt and impede to the very end
crows take flight towards the blood red Sun
he calls them back
rests his weary hands and tired eyes
before the long walk into town
his silhouette fades as I awaken
to view the captured image that hangs
from my wall
the perfect lucid dream
Tichozpytec Jan 27
A little painter in her room
Gathers strength while Darkness looms
She takes a canvas, picks up the paints
A rush of adrenalin in her veins
She holds the brushes, takes a stance
Her hands over the canvas dance
And suddenly, the room is brightened
Successful work, she's no longer frightened
A powerful shield to fight the Night
A little painter that paints with Light
Nigdaw Dec 2021
king of colour
a whisper
into the future
unheard in his time
died in the pursuit
of painting a world
in his head
visions of oil
on canvas windows
into his soul
sorry your work
is for the rich and famous
not for everyone
as it was made
FiguringItOut Jul 2021
People Pass
(A poem inspired by The Scream by Edvard Munch)

People pass
They don’t see the pain I’m in
A guy in the street just like them with problems no bigger than theirs
My internal struggle is waiting to burst but nobody cares
The bridge I’m on acts as a platform for my escape
A jumping off point into the watery landscape
No problems at the bottom of the river
Freedom so close I almost shiver
Even one smile may change the tide
But people are busy
I cry for help with my mouth open wide
But they continue their stride as if to push me aside so I’ll fall over
Into my aquatic enclosure
My hands are glued to my face as if to hold my untamed mind in place
Can’t pull them apart
If only I could restart
My knees bend without my command
My body flies through the air like a plane unmanned
Within a second I feel the cold start at me feet
I fall further until my descent is complete
Looking up at a world turned to aquamarine
It’s finally quiet
This place is serine
The struggle stops
The last bubble to the surface pops
My vison fades
The nightmare of feeling, a forgotten haze
Wrote this for a class a few years ago where we had to come up with a poem inspired by a famous painting.
stillhuman Apr 2021
Powerless

I finally get up, i leave you behind
Now i'm free

Senseless

I cry of joy as mom holds me in her arms
Now i feel

Empty

I paint 'til i can't feel my hands anymore and my cheeks hurt
a sweet ache caused by my smile
Now i create

Ugly

I look in the mirror
I don't see a stranger
Now i am

But not really
I'm not
Not now
Practice makes progress, i guess
I want to paint you there,
so I never lose you again
even the sun wil set my pain everywhere.
I want to paint you,
but I am not a good painter
who will make you a good picture
in a frame or in the wall
I always hang it out.
I will make you come to see
in the colour
I love it should be.
Indonesia, 2nd April 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
stillhuman Mar 2021
When I feel lost in this world
full of potential
and twists and turns
When I feel I have no place
in structured conversations
and I barely recognize my face
When I have no friends nor foes
or at least I can't see them anymore
my aunt, my cousin, my dad propose
that art is always open
that poetry will always listen
and my history is my token
I am the culmination
of my family's art
So I will work
and tear myself apart
with verses and rhymes
and paintings and designs
'Cause our history has no end
so long as on my shoulders it dipends
Happy International Poetry Day!
This is to remind myself of my family's history with art. My dad writes poetry and used to paint, my aunt created beautiful art and my cousin is a pretty well-known painter. It truly runs in my family and I'm the last artist so far. I hope to make good use of their wisdom and love
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