Cavas poems on Hello Poetry

GfS May 2015

I got some things I want to confess
From an awkward nerd to a beautiful countess
You're more confusing than the Higg's Boson
I understand more the positrons and electrons
You're more complex than a polysaccharide
"Understanding You" is no book my archive
Why can't our relationship be a mutualism
Rather than the one sided commensalism
Could we be close like the tibia and fibula?
So close like the aorta and vena cavas?
To be close, I could only hope
Like uranium 237 and uranium 238, inseparable isotopes
Whenever I see you, I get the "kilig" affixes
Like the sour taste of citru sinensis
I can't get enough of your wonderful smile
It's like the taste of pentahydroxyhexanal
You might think I'm in delirium
But my thoughts are in equilibrium
You're the only girl inside my cranium
And this love for you is more precious than *titanium

Who said nerds aren't romantic?

#love #science #romance #nerd #romantic #confession #nerdy

Spike Harper Feb 2016

The Painter

The cavas has been stained.
Numerous times over.
With every stroke.
Every decisive decision.
Remains.
Then it begins to paint itself.
This so called piece of unique art.
Almost all the white is gone.
Splashed over.
And again.
With more colorful pigments and hues.
Yet covering up the past with a brighter saturation.
Only hides what's underneath.
Until it dries of course.
Making a corroding concoction of congested collisions.
That neither the painter.
Or the art would ever understand.
And so the piece goes on.
In search of a lasting peace.
While forever in limbo.
Awaiting the day when a new sheet of cavas will arrive.

#poem #poetry #life #regret #depressed #mind #body #decisions #spilledink #freeverse

Torin May 2016

Waiting

Colors, sounds, art, love
Give me more noise to drown out the silence
Lines on cavas
Shape with feeling
Lines on paper
Lost metaphor
Found meaning
When all I'm meaning to say
*I
was waiting
for you
my whole life
and
if you
leave me now
all I'm waiting on
is death

adrian Apr 2016

THE ARTIST WITH THE EMPTY CANVAS

THE ARTIST WITH THE EMPTY CANVAS

i could never paint, he says, i would just have an empty canvas over and over again.

there was no vibrant color, there was no creativity. my canvas was empty.

my paintbrush was nothing but a brush with a ironic name. my canvas was empty.

all the paint stored up in the attic was all dried up. my cavas was empty.

then i saw a color.

the most glistening red i've ever seen. i didn't know my body was paint. i didn't know that my finger could be a brush too.

and on that night, my canvas wasn't empty. no, after that night, it was never empty.

jalopy Aug 1

Perro de magma en montaña de nieve

—por que cavas cachorro?
—por que siento está tierra fría
—esta tierra es fría, pero cavar no calentará tu cuerpo
—he nacido del fuego, soy un hijo de la tierra, del magma, intento volver a mi masa madre
—es imposible, si eres hijo del fuego, cavar te dejará sin oxígeno, y te extinguiras
—entonces viviré aquí arriba, y me haré sola, comeré sola, y tendré que hacerme una casa entre tanto frío, entre este piso blanco

— The End —