Alex 2d

he had always wanted to be an artist
except he practiced it
with his wrist as the canvas
his blood as the paint
and scissors, knives, and pencils
as the paintbrushes

Jobira Dec 8

We’re naked
in the painting room
I stand behind you
breathing on your neck
mesmerized by your body
beautiful like the radiant sun
celestial feelings take over me
my face hidden under your long neck
my tongue tracing down on you back
my hands playing with your breasts
my rocket pointed at your bottoms
just below your dimples
like a nuclear bomb
as you splatter flames of beauty
on the blank canvases

I’d smell the fresh air
like the perfume scent of your skin
coming from the ocean of colors
bleeding out of your brushes
intensified like your nerves
raging out of control
to run freely on the open field
naked without limits and
to feel the exhilaration of bliss
just like how much you’re
wanting me to stroke you
each time your brushes cry
and moan in ecstasy

I’d run down my fingers
towards your butterfly
watching you tingle
for with every touch
you’d miss patterns
lines of symmetry
on the painting
the more I headed further down south
the more your lines become out of place
once I reached where heat is
generating in your body
your brushes run wild
like horses lead out of their barns
as you’d make a whole lot of messes
on the canvases
where a brand new
life starts to breathe and
stares at us in the eyes
as we’d make intense love
in the painting room
as your hands are still
holding brushes
and creating beauty  
fiercely with passion

@jobiranyc (12/8/2017)

Midnight scribbling
Neharika Dec 3

My colors are drained,
No stronger mourning than rain
Canvas fogged with pain.

The Palette Poised

The palette poised
As if…….. some archaic ballroom
Oiled and smoothed by years of feint and flourish
Marks of previous jigs and gambols
Colors placed in magic sequence
Waiting for to dance and mingle

Stuart Williamson       2015 ©

Remi Leroy Nov 28

Dipping a sable fur brush into blue
A teal blue the colour of the ocean of my imaginations
A blue I'll sink into
Like how the colour sinks into parchment

A stroke across white, precise and gentle
Like the way your eyes deliver warmth
Like the way I'll sink into the burnt umber of your eyes
I'm gravitating towards you
No matter how I run, no matter how I hide
I still end up with scraped knees
As though I'm addicted to falling

Stroke after stroke, watching the colours bleed together
In patterns beyond imagination
To create a piece just for you and me
Inside my head, locked away
Because I know no matter how I feel
These stories are never real

A blue so vivid yet faded
A brown so simple yet elaborate
Where colours collide on a parchment white
I'll just be blue, a blue ocean night

Elliot Yu Nov 19

I fell in love with you one night in September
When crickets sang an ode to Autumn
When Gaea’s palettes matured to tones of herself
to the leaves, falling like tired angels

I remember the dying painter spitting his last few colors onto the sky,
Warm scarlets that professed themselves to be deep ceruleans and violets
When we watched, spaced, from the yellowed creaking picket fence
Wind chimes sighing in the subtle breeze.

You were the artist, a divine manifestation,
Wisps of hair breaking through your perfected face
An ocean of complexion in your eyes, hiding secrets
Reap the grains of my affection, throw it in the pitch

But I was colorless, achromatic
A beige canvas
You played me with your hues and tones and tints and
splatters of pigment

Sometimes, I’m painted vibrant oranges and yellows and reds and
pondering in sunflower fields, gentle raindrops resting on our shoulders,
crackling bonfires, leaping flames.
Pleasant comfort.

colors fade.

Vibrancy grows faint under grey.
Winter frost slithered to your heart, turned jet-black
Boreas’ wind swept you away.
Tobacco-scented Icarus, you’re bound to fall.

Ah, snowy white procession of death, take me!
Bare skeletons of trees shiver in the morning chill
A heaviness carries the shattered ice of your eyes
Unforgiving, piercing, daggers to my soul.

You fell in love with him one night in December, and I wait.
Minutes liquify, oozing to hours, seeping through cracks of my sanity.

a small project
xaiv vos Nov 19

you claim that I'm a masterpiece

I wonder if it's because I let you study every layer
and better yet
let you leave your mark

I handed you my heart in the early spring
carving your initials in my bark before I could fully grow leaves

I let you storm my temple
and graffiti my walls
making yourself feel right at home

I felt no need to stop you
completely captivated by your ability to paint me in every color

you could claim me as your masterpiece

Liam Beets Nov 15

The clouds paint the blue canvas white
No matter where you are it’s easy to see
That it’s picture perfect and just right
The reflection shines on the blue sea.
The sun paints the blue canvas orange
No matter what you are it’s a lovely view
The hours go on and the clouds rearrange
The flora sprouts life anew.
The stars paint the blue canvas black
No matter who you are you need to rest
For tomorrow when the blue canvas comes back
And shines on the beautiful forest.

This is my first poem on this site, hope you like it. :)
Sara Mares Nov 15

We are our true selves when we let the music take us
It strips us bare, exposes us to ourselves
Naked and real, like the scorched earth after a wildfire
It leaves us fertile to new emotions and ideas
We are receptive to the seeds that are planted
A new canvas to be painted

Angie S Nov 10

the sky sprawled out across the atmosphere
the sun melted into a rich, bursting orange
and then into a deep, mellow lavender
clouds like sharp strokes on a canvas
drifted so slowly they
seemed to be suspended onto that artwork

from my vantage point,
having exhausted myself in study and in loneliness,
that sky seemed to knock on my heart's door
and leak into what cracks i had sustained
yesterday's despair seemed so far away in that moment
for once i admired the present for
what a gift that sight had been

for such an array of beauty
i had no words to describe
but after giving it some thought
i feel your name would fit it best

**happy 100th poem on hello poetry to me!** i have been on this website for... 3 years now? and i have finally reached this milestone. my enthusiasm for poetry has only increased since i joined this website, and i am really looking forward to the next 100 poems! what an exciting day...

let me know if the last stanza fits well with the rest of the poem? i wrote it with the intention of connecting the sunset with love, but it seems like a sudden jump of themes to throw it in at the very last line. as always, i appreciate feedback on all my poetry! :)

i learned to "be here now"
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