Batool Jun 13
There she was
lying still on the couch
posing the best she could
with her gaze transfixed
deep into his eyes
basking in the thick silence
that surronded them
the only sound of his charcoal lead
stroking the paper could be heard
His every stroke defined her curve
a little better
His rough hands blending the lines
staining her soul a beautiful shade of charcoal
She could feel him
making sure strokes
thus bringing the woman on paper
to life
she felt her heart slipping ...
slipping from her hand
and on to the paper
the color of her skin fading
and reappearing on his masterpiece
the fullness of her lips
was nothing
as the beauty on his canvas
now owned it
the last thing she felt
was the twinkle of her eyes leaving
adding the final touch
to his creation
and it was when
he broke the eye contact
taking with him
the beauty he sketched  
he left ...
not knowing that
He left the masterpiece behind
on the couch .... !!
Sally A Bayan Apr 10
<3 <3 <3

She enjoys her morning espresso
while he savors his mug of cappuccino

she shapes his dimpled face
in her newly wakened mind
he imagines her big brown eyes
gazing like a buck...inquiring, yet dreamy

she hums a lover's lullaby, for him,
each morning, before leaving,
he lets his charcoal pencil play
on his ever ready sketch pads
draws her face with pixie haircut

they think of each other day and night
always......at the very same time

yet...not a word is said when their eyes
meet...not an effort done, to break the ice
they'd rather keep things within,
their coffee mugs...witnesses,
to their similar daily practices

what a shame...what a waste!

their elbows, their arms touch in haste
as they hurry....towards the quay,
the ferryboat takes long, they both wait
leaving their untold love go by
along with their unsung lullaby...

it happens daily...without fail
their feelings, bubbling as they sail
but...neither has the guts to bare

how could they let life go on this way?
content with just a secret love affair...
<3 <3 <3


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 5, 2018
...a work of fiction...
Nel Mar 26
I sketched a model yesterday

I studied her body
The dips of her hips
Her flat stomach

But the more I studied her body
The more I wanted to know about her

Her as a person

Like how she gotten into modeling for artists
So they could study the body

I wondered if this was the only job she had
I wondered if she struggled with her body

But

The more I sketched
The more I realized that the body was art
Ritika Dev Feb 26
Etching my way across,
Unadorned White.
A landscape.
A portrait.
A petal of gray.
One Pencil.

Magnificent lines,
Leap from white.
Landscapes lie before me.
Faces pass me by.
To infinitely draw out reality.
One pencil.

Feeling,
A gloomy face.
A glowing city.
Infinite possibilities,
One pencil.

The array of magic.
The dream of the limitless.
I have no boundaries.
For I am but
One pencil.
Neharika Jul 2017
It's hard to illustrate
this essence in frames
some love is easily lost
but some love, it stays.

You draw outlines
With precision and care
And still gets smudged
in pain and despair.

You try to illustrate
take every right step
still, leave enough room for silly mistakes.
Some love, it just stays.

You try to erase
those sloppy details.
nevertheless, can't escape
but some love, it just stays.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
WITH a fractured beak, he stirred his own shadow, until he was dissolved in it.

With a weak wing, he hugged himself, until he could no longer be separated from the tightness.

(2013)
alan May 2017
Driving in the car at night,
like a moth, I'm drawn to light.
Constantly press my pen to paper;
cannot play this any safer.
Emma Whittle Apr 2017
She grabbed her faux leather messenger bag,
threw in 3 old band t-shirts, 3 pairs of underwear,
2 bras and a couple pairs of ripped skinny jeans, her Polaroid camera to take photographs of where she goes, a book, a journal to document her thoughts, a sketch pad, a package of Marlboro Red 100's, a lighter,  her iPod and some toiletries.  She didn't say anything, she just out and left. No note, no warning, nothing but her mess of a room.  She smiled at her room, her dream catcher, her poster-strewn walls, all of it.
And she slipped out of her window.  'Goodbye,' She thought to herself and started walking.  But what she didn't know was she had
just left her life and started a brand new one.  She was walking to the edge of oblivion.  She was shooting herself straight off a cliff,
off of the safety under her roof, the safety of her bed, the safety of everything she left behind.  All she had was that bag.  17 items. That was her life. 17 items to keep her safe, 17 items to live on for the rest of her time.  For the 3 years until she was 18.  Until she could show her face in public again until she could be seen.  But until then, she was alone.  She sparked her lighter and lit up a cigarette.  All alone with her bag and a package of cigarettes. She sat down on the curb by the bus stop and began to draw.  And that was that.  She was lost in her mind. Her mind had run farther than she had. Because after all,
we're
               all
                              mad
                           ­                       here..
Have you ever just wanted to run away? No note, no warning of leave, just pack your things and leave your world to create your own. To taste the edge of oblivion.
Next page