#drawings
I often lose myself in doodles, sketches, and drawings... Trying to replicate great works but more often originals of my own creation. But when I do try to replicate a work from lets say Monet or Van Gogh its because a piece stood out to me and the image lingers in the back of my mind like a shadow cast by a single lit candle in room as vast as the universe itself...
https://postimg.cc/kBGGjwPr <---- What I've done so far compared to the original found in the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena California...
I believe whole heartedly that the eyes in this painting belong not to the peasant but to Van Gogh himself... Either intentionally or not the piercing stare will forever be burned in my mind.
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 4:52 PM UTC
Darling, do not tell me that you are more beautiful with those drawings on your skin.
You've convinced yourself that they mean so much to you, and no one can even begin to understand, but I want you to know that the real beauty of an individual is more than simply skin deep.
That is why the ink on your skin does not impress me.
Everyone has stories and scars —I just choose not to wear mine on the outside.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 1:01 AM UTC
Just because you do not find the beauty
in words and poems,
in drawings and paintings,
in colors,
in the waves of the grass
or the bark of a tree,
does not mean
that I should not too.
I should not be out-casted
for finding beauty in things that
you do not.
My opinions do not change your view,
Why should yours change mine?
maybe, for once,
take the leap, take the chance
in finding beauty in something other than
what you think is normal.
Not until you take that chance
can you tell me that my views are wrong.
-the ballet of a dreamer j.j
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 11:12 AM UTC
I want to paint you
And captivate all your details in my mind
I want to draw your face over and over again
Until I memorize all of your lines
To the slight curve of your nose
Until the perfect shape of your eyes
Looking up so thoughtfully, wanting to fly
I want to take you to the skies
Just to see the pure blue color reflect on your skin
I want to take you to the most distant beach
So I can captivate how the color of the sea
Can shape your lips into little smile
And become to exact same color of your eyes
As they look at me
The only one that could draw you
Even without looking
Because I already memorized all of your lines
In my mind
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 12:57 PM UTC
they asked me to describe love in three words,
paintings,books ,poetry,
i replied
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 11:43 AM UTC
the first time i saw her stretch marks i
saw beauty as a landscape formed,
lightning collapsed on her earth
captured by my lavender mind
i painted cosmic energy on
her body, oil on canvas ii
created a portrait my
fingertip a brush as
i drew a valley of
a thousand hills
on her fragile
temple.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 7:46 AM UTC
There are vines on my hands.
-They're creeping up my spine-
They're twisted and they share wicked smiles
And their smiles aren't meant for me.
I wrap them around my fingers
Their darkness appealing as death,
With poison made of ink.
~~~
I weave in flowers,
They're painted all in black
In the hopes of distracting from how I'm trapped.
But I like it that way;
They're small and pathetic.
They're a mess like me.
~~~
But it's not just the vines.
There are eyes on my skin too
My hands are covered in everything I can't say.
They watch my every move.
You just have to get close enough to look -
- Watch out; they bite
They're hidden in the vines.
The vines on my hands. The vines on my hands.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 8:09 AM UTC
Up there, two lovers stood still, face to face,
While life raced by, at its frenetic pace.
Some days and nights went by; the people talked.
And in the cool of autumn time, some chalked,
Upon inviting spaces on the wall,
These drawings of the lovers and their fall.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 6:47 AM UTC
cookie tins and tea
your faded grade school drawings
and her chipped birdbath
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
Your broken guitars,
My finished sketchbooks--
That's how we are right now.
No more songs meant for me,
No more completed portraits of you;
We're blank and make no sound.
What if, back then, I had stayed?
What if, back then, I had fought?
Would I have loved you til the end?
What if, back then, you had found me?
What if, back then, you felt the same?
Would you have held on to my hand?
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 7:29 AM UTC
if the world is a canvas,
your hands can form lines
that connect us together
tell me all the mediums
you create our world into
the castles we live in
the stories of our forever
we are never steady
but these textures
always build the feeling
of the future we are having
so promise me
one thing
and one thing only
let us be our creators
and creations
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
I'm an artist?
I wish someone would of told me that earlier
I would of told the actual ones i was so they could laugh at me
I'm just a soul trying to improve on the ordinary lines that normally come out
I'm not your Prince bragging about being a King
I'm just the by passer that gives a thumb up to the man making his very own ring for his woman
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 8:40 PM UTC