#papermache - Hello Poetry

◊ There's crumpled papers, ripped apart teared to shreds lying scattered on the floor I've been here all day trying to fold and fold paper, over and over by itself My hands are starting to get sore Floating paper mache's near the water, too been there all day. Paper crane, where are you going? don't leave me here in this disarray Paper icicles, piercing as it might. Paper... all paper the village, the people, the cars So lovely. A land of peace. Dare be no fright I loom over the sight I shaped this all! Might i be pleased oh this feels so right A paper village I created, oh what a sight! - Paper faces, wearing a mask on a parade villagers don't leave me now not ever as you go on and celebrate today your lands will only grow bigger All will be okay. So long you don't wash away, nor flee the village i'd shaped in the center of this disarray ◊

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May 10, 2021

May 10, 2021 at 10:14 AM UTC

FC_Azaele

Paper Village

◊ There's crumpled papers, ripped apart teared to shreds lying scattered on the floor I've been here all day trying to fold and fold paper, over and over by itself My hands are starting to get sore Floating paper mache's near the water, too been there all day. Paper crane, where are you going? don't leave me here in this disarray Paper icicles, piercing as it might. Paper... all paper the village, the people, the cars So lovely. A land of peace. Dare be no fright I loom over the sight I shaped this all! Might i be pleased oh this feels so right A paper village I created, oh what a sight! - Paper faces, wearing a mask on a parade villagers don't leave me now not ever as you go on and celebrate today your lands will only grow bigger All will be okay. So long you don't wash away, nor flee the village i'd shaped in the center of this disarray ◊

37

Fold and turn and cut shape and mold into an entity nooks and crannies and corners that bite slash and paste and create until I lie before you naked in all my sticky, rumpled glory.

0

Jan 27, 2019

Jan 27, 2019 at 7:54 PM UTC

Raemond

Art Project

Fold and turn and cut shape and mold into an entity nooks and crannies and corners that bite slash and paste and create until I lie before you naked in all my sticky, rumpled glory.

8

I was a mosaic collected in scratched nails imbedded, bleeding like I was meant to be touched but can you really grasp a reflection.. How could you identify what I see, within the fallen feathers of a crows smiles. I'm hidden within, a pile of dead bones wishing to fly again. I could walk within the footsteps of those in front of me on calm sands. But I choose to run on a beach of shattered shells, this is life! broken dreams never really washing away. I see smiles kept aloft by matchsticks, ready to ignite. Within there embers embracing the true reflection of how I see others. Parched realties of never really loving you or another for the failures of there integrity. I could love, in blindness. But what is seen is nothingness.. I could love, in thought. But memories will always lie to oneself. I could have love, in myself. But nothing ever comes from that.. Until I realize that I'm not in control of this collage of moments. I'm a Paper-Mache, randomly collecting on a frame work of contemplation, that I will only see on the completion of my life. I'm but a part that I thought was irrelevant, immaterial. But I'm just a piece of life collecting on the shattered shells slowly reforming to realize there is more to life than sandy shores.

0

Dec 27, 2017

Dec 27, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC

poetic-t

Paper-Mache Contortions

I was a mosaic collected in scratched nails imbedded, bleeding like I was meant to be touched but can you really grasp a reflection.. How could you identify what I see, within the fallen feathers of a crows smiles. I'm hidden within, a pile of dead bones wishing to fly again. I could walk within the footsteps of those in front of me on calm sands. But I choose to run on a beach of shattered shells, this is life! broken dreams never really washing away. I see smiles kept aloft by matchsticks, ready to ignite. Within there embers embracing the true reflection of how I see others. Parched realties of never really loving you or another for the failures of there integrity. I could love, in blindness. But what is seen is nothingness.. I could love, in thought. But memories will always lie to oneself. I could have love, in myself. But nothing ever comes from that.. Until I realize that I'm not in control of this collage of moments. I'm a Paper-Mache, randomly collecting on a frame work of contemplation, that I will only see on the completion of my life. I'm but a part that I thought was irrelevant, immaterial. But I'm just a piece of life collecting on the shattered shells slowly reforming to realize there is more to life than sandy shores.

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