#masterpieces - Hello Poetry

A Matisse-painted sky dawning this morning, So that I could peer, seeing, Rembrandt-esque Trees lining the Murray River crossing the bridge that joins my two towns: “Twin Cities” Albury and Wodonga. Banksy’s streetscapes then brought me into reality: work time — Who paints that?!

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Jul 1, 2025

Jul 1, 2025 at 7:17 PM UTC

bekahalle

Lost in a painting

A Matisse-painted sky dawning this morning, So that I could peer, seeing, Rembrandt-esque Trees lining the Murray River crossing the bridge that joins my two towns: “Twin Cities” Albury and Wodonga. Banksy’s streetscapes then brought me into reality: work time — Who paints that?!

10

My average means I don’t have to take final exams. So my bachelor's degree is a finished product. I cranked it out, all that’s left now is the walk (May 18th). Let’s call it my nearly forgotten masterpiece. My schedule says that I start a 1-year ‘master of public health’ degree in 38 days. It was my mom’s idea. She said, “You need to keep active” (pre- med-school). It sounds crazier to me now than it did last year, when I was accepted and agreed. Now, I feel like some chary, aging showgirl who’s about to be hustled back on-stage. But what’s life without massive compromise? Anyway, don’t cry for me. I’m still sizing it all up, I’ll figure it out. I suppose we’re all out there hustling. It’s our response to slowing med-school admissions, those glitches in the medical, industrial education complex or that’s how the narrative’s shaped, anyway. It’s not the additional work that bothers me, I’m regular worker bee, It’s the perma-threat of loneliness. I’m already packing. Leaving feels real and I'm surfing this maudlin wave tonight—shading deep blue. The simple march of time will take away friends I’ve grown to love. We’ve allegorised and transformed one another by proximity. I’ve really loved it here. . . Songs for this: Graduation (Friends Forever) by Vitamin C Graduation Day by Tony Rivers & The Castaways

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Apr 21, 2025

Apr 21, 2025 at 8:01 AM UTC

anaisvionet

masterpieces

My average means I don’t have to take final exams. So my bachelor's degree is a finished product. I cranked it out, all that’s left now is the walk (May 18th). Let’s call it my nearly forgotten masterpiece. My schedule says that I start a 1-year ‘master of public health’ degree in 38 days. It was my mom’s idea. She said, “You need to keep active” (pre- med-school). It sounds crazier to me now than it did last year, when I was accepted and agreed. Now, I feel like some chary, aging showgirl who’s about to be hustled back on-stage. But what’s life without massive compromise? Anyway, don’t cry for me. I’m still sizing it all up, I’ll figure it out. I suppose we’re all out there hustling. It’s our response to slowing med-school admissions, those glitches in the medical, industrial education complex or that’s how the narrative’s shaped, anyway. It’s not the additional work that bothers me, I’m regular worker bee, It’s the perma-threat of loneliness. I’m already packing. Leaving feels real and I'm surfing this maudlin wave tonight—shading deep blue. The simple march of time will take away friends I’ve grown to love. We’ve allegorised and transformed one another by proximity. I’ve really loved it here. . . Songs for this: Graduation (Friends Forever) by Vitamin C Graduation Day by Tony Rivers & The Castaways

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Of course, masterpieces of the mind, require sensationalism Returning to the womb to re-visit the beginning This journey is one extraordinarily odd voyage Can it be achieved Brian Hill - 2020 # 33

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Feb 2, 2020

Feb 2, 2020 at 9:54 AM UTC

halfpac11

Voyage

Of course, masterpieces of the mind, require sensationalism Returning to the womb to re-visit the beginning This journey is one extraordinarily odd voyage Can it be achieved Brian Hill - 2020 # 33

5

A soul pens stories... Some in written form, Some etched in heart. All become masterpieces in journey towards enlightenment.

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Jun 1, 2019

Jun 1, 2019 at 8:31 AM UTC

star-bg

The Writer

A soul pens stories... Some in written form, Some etched in heart. All become masterpieces in journey towards enlightenment.

5

Some people deserve To have poems written about them Songs composed Sketches drawn Novels made All about them All that type of stuff Should come into existence All Because Of Them. Also I've realised Most things Labelled "You" Just happen to be masterpieces. Because "You", whoever you are Are the reason For people to create Something absolutely Utterly Irrevocably Beautiful. That's kind of a wonderful way To think about it Isn't it?

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Jul 14, 2017

Jul 14, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC

Meganthewanderess

You.

Some people deserve To have poems written about them Songs composed Sketches drawn Novels made All about them All that type of stuff Should come into existence All Because Of Them. Also I've realised Most things Labelled "You" Just happen to be masterpieces. Because "You", whoever you are Are the reason For people to create Something absolutely Utterly Irrevocably Beautiful. That's kind of a wonderful way To think about it Isn't it?

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sometimes my words can hit so instantly that just the way that they flow from me powered by imagination is the best to be its at my fingertips and its my magic key I put my heart and soul in my creativity making masterpieces throughout my poetry

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Feb 12, 2017

Feb 12, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC

LadyBird

My Magic Key (Rap)

sometimes my words can hit so instantly that just the way that they flow from me powered by imagination is the best to be its at my fingertips and its my magic key I put my heart and soul in my creativity making masterpieces throughout my poetry

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What worlds of wonders are our books As one opens them and looks, new ideas and people rise In our fancies and our eyes The room we sit in melts away, And we find ourselves at play With someone who before the end, May become our chosen friend We sail along the page To some other land or age. Here is our body in the chair But our mind is over there. Each book is a magic box Which with a touch A child unlocks. In between their outside cover Books held all things, for their lover መፃሕፍት ገልፆ ለሚያያቸው መሕፍት ምንኛ ድንቅ ዓለሞች ናቸው፣ በምናባችን በዓይኖቻችን ማእዘን ይከስታሉ አዳዲስ ሓሳቦች፣ እንዲሁም ልዩ ልዩ ሰዎች! የተቀመጥንበት ክፍል ድንገት ጅረት ይሆንና ይዞን ሲነጉድ እስከጥግ ሳንዘልቅ ገና እንተዋወቃለን ሠዎች ደና የሚያደርጉን ዘና፣ ምናልባትም ለዘልቄታው የሚሆኑን የኛ ምርጥ ጓደኛ! አሊያም ገጾቹን ቀዝፈን ራሳቸንን ናገኛለን ወደሌላ ያለም ማዘን ወይ ዘመን ተጓጉዘን ‘ዚህ ወንበር ላይ በአካል ተቀምጠን በምናብ ተሻግረን ዛነን፡፡ ‘ያንዳንዱ መፅፍ የድንቃድንቅ ማህደር ነው ‘ያንዳንዱ ህፃን ይዞ ሚከፍተው ቁልፉን ጠምዞ፡፡ አጥብቆ ለሚሻቸው በውጪ ልባሶቻቸው መፃሕፍት ሸክፈዋል ሁሉን አቅፈው! (ኢሌኖር ፍራጂዮን) //

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Jan 21, 2016

Jan 21, 2016 at 4:19 AM UTC

alem-hailu-gkristos

Books/Eleanor Frajeon/Translation in Amharic/መፃሕፍት/By Alem Hailu

What worlds of wonders are our books As one opens them and looks, new ideas and people rise In our fancies and our eyes The room we sit in melts away, And we find ourselves at play With someone who before the end, May become our chosen friend We sail along the page To some other land or age. Here is our body in the chair But our mind is over there. Each book is a magic box Which with a touch A child unlocks. In between their outside cover Books held all things, for their lover መፃሕፍት ገልፆ ለሚያያቸው መሕፍት ምንኛ ድንቅ ዓለሞች ናቸው፣ በምናባችን በዓይኖቻችን ማእዘን ይከስታሉ አዳዲስ ሓሳቦች፣ እንዲሁም ልዩ ልዩ ሰዎች! የተቀመጥንበት ክፍል ድንገት ጅረት ይሆንና ይዞን ሲነጉድ እስከጥግ ሳንዘልቅ ገና እንተዋወቃለን ሠዎች ደና የሚያደርጉን ዘና፣ ምናልባትም ለዘልቄታው የሚሆኑን የኛ ምርጥ ጓደኛ! አሊያም ገጾቹን ቀዝፈን ራሳቸንን ናገኛለን ወደሌላ ያለም ማዘን ወይ ዘመን ተጓጉዘን ‘ዚህ ወንበር ላይ በአካል ተቀምጠን በምናብ ተሻግረን ዛነን፡፡ ‘ያንዳንዱ መፅፍ የድንቃድንቅ ማህደር ነው ‘ያንዳንዱ ህፃን ይዞ ሚከፍተው ቁልፉን ጠምዞ፡፡ አጥብቆ ለሚሻቸው በውጪ ልባሶቻቸው መፃሕፍት ሸክፈዋል ሁሉን አቅፈው! (ኢሌኖር ፍራጂዮን) //

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When I met you, I was a draft. An artwork to never be complete. My eyes of charcoal My veins of graphite No color flowed through me for I was Lifeless. You opened up to me You redesigned my thoughts. Your paintbrush stroked a bright blush onto my cheeks You turned me into Bright pastels With glorious indigos Overwhelming scarlets And mysterious lavenders. You kissed me in a backdrop of Forest greens. You created scenery for Every emotion, Dressed me with rainbows, And completed my blank spaces. You turned me into a masterpiece. But before you could sign your Glorious painting You realized You could do better pieces And pastel was over rated anyways.

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Nov 10, 2015

Nov 10, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC

Garbage-Dog

Pastel Was Over Rated Anyways

When I met you, I was a draft. An artwork to never be complete. My eyes of charcoal My veins of graphite No color flowed through me for I was Lifeless. You opened up to me You redesigned my thoughts. Your paintbrush stroked a bright blush onto my cheeks You turned me into Bright pastels With glorious indigos Overwhelming scarlets And mysterious lavenders. You kissed me in a backdrop of Forest greens. You created scenery for Every emotion, Dressed me with rainbows, And completed my blank spaces. You turned me into a masterpiece. But before you could sign your Glorious painting You realized You could do better pieces And pastel was over rated anyways.

26

In the early morning we knelt down, And in the cool damp kindergarten classroom air, The whole place bustled with so much sound As all the children gathered there. It was then the birds flew in and out Between the bushes, through small holes, During days we learned what their music was about When we sang and laughed with giddy souls. In the end we'd pronounce our letters dot our i's And in the afternoon paint while warmed by the sun, The golden birds one by one flew by, And in the end our masterpieces were done. I would come back with brightly cheerful eyes Each step I'd take up the driveway so joyful, home. I made a painting in class that day, it got 1st prize, It was a painting of a sun and birds of my own.

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Feb 22, 2015

Feb 22, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC

alan-s-bailey

Classtime With Mrs. Pacheco

In the early morning we knelt down, And in the cool damp kindergarten classroom air, The whole place bustled with so much sound As all the children gathered there. It was then the birds flew in and out Between the bushes, through small holes, During days we learned what their music was about When we sang and laughed with giddy souls. In the end we'd pronounce our letters dot our i's And in the afternoon paint while warmed by the sun, The golden birds one by one flew by, And in the end our masterpieces were done. I would come back with brightly cheerful eyes Each step I'd take up the driveway so joyful, home. I made a painting in class that day, it got 1st prize, It was a painting of a sun and birds of my own.

16