Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Eudora Oct 2015
I know...
I am not one of the pages of your book
or the words in your poem
But...
I will tirelessly watch over you from every nook.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the potrait you are painting
or the inspiration behind your masterpieces
But...
in my heart , it is your name I am engraving.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the reason for your smiles
or the tickles of your laughter
But...
for you, I would walk a thousand miles.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not your shining star
or the light in your life
But...
till forever is through, I'll admire you from afar.

I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

I know...
I am not the one your heart beats for
or the one you desire
But...
my hearts says as long as it brings you happiness,
it wants nothing more.

I know I am your never
**but you will forever be my always...
"Every feeling unreturned has its own rainbow."
Let your heart lead the way...
Asmita Sarkar Jan 2014
If tomorrow didnt begin with that perky sun again,

If tomorrow like me,

Stayed in bed and didnt open its eyes.

Would I not be tomorrow then?

I could be tomorrow,

as tomorrow could be me.

Perkiness would go out the window

Frivolity would go down the drain

All that would remain

Is the sulky little child sitting on the window sill.

Staring at the darkness outside,

smirking,

For he has the sun in his Fist.
Color me rainbow and brighten up my day, take a little sunshine to chase away the grey.sign me a letter and post it at my door, seal your words in lovers kisses making ever sure.smoother my heart with an embracing smile, your mouth tantalise with words that will beguile.Paint me a potrait your body as a guide, etching every detail my heart to yours will bindLovers secret illusions seen only from within, breathless anticipations for the seductive grinhold my hand in yours, touch me at your will, shivers ripple through me so sensual the thrill let us catch our eyes and draw deeply into the view, my heart to yours i meld, alone and ever truebubbles circle and enclose us, together we are alone, screened and protected our life is ours to ownEtch your words upon my heart, entwined in your embrace our love shall not departstill our lives together keep them fresh and young, let it be forever as we have just beguntake this day into tomorrow, letting our love chase away all that does sorrowPaint us a potrait our life together as a guide, etching every detail our heart together will bindBy Deeanne **
Dont steal it...written for and about my daughter and her experience with first love
Pea Oct 2014
7
in my dream you were
running like a rat
wearing your fingertoes like
hydrangeas and heartache
in your head
where all the nice things passed out
we built barbed fences around our heart
to keep it still
like a ghastly statue
i had no clue
in my dream you were
planting apple seeds
in a corn field
i gave you a knife
became a mermaid
the last child
and a sea
in my dream you were
shining like a sun
brainlike exploding
having planets around
like flower crown
in my dream
you were
warm mug i'd left at home
three a.m. and homework not done
a highschool girl
long forgotten
in a potrait on your identity card
Passang Sherpa Jul 2018
Alone in the room, with a brush in my hand
Colors, on the palette, an easel, on the stand.
I keep splashing the paint, a figure does appear,
A figure of a lady, standing by the, hallway stair.

Late in her forties, but to me, she looks no old
Very well attired, fully decked up in gold.
Frilled skirt with stockings, up to her knees,
And with a collared T-shirt, that’s pinkish.
Glaring with a bright radiance, looking very fair,
She looks so magnificent, sitting by the hallway stair.

The portrait completed, I hang it up the wall,
She reminds me of someone, as I do recall,
Of this girl I, once did know, from yesteryear
Oh! The fair lady! Sitting by the hallway stair.

Copyright © PS
Diljeev Jan 2022
Potrait of a rainy night,
strands of her mane
are rain frozen in time,
the way the clouds and rain
immerse the moon in them,
so is her visage,
basking in her skin
through her mane,
the sole stars
in a night like this
are her eyes.
Words are this painter's brush
though none can sum up
how endlessly beautiful
her being is.
aviisevil Aug 2015
dead men don't sing to the world
no one can hear them against the winds
Their is the land of ash and dust
nobody is awake at the gates to take them in

dead people don't knock on no doors
they don't have our walls to keep them from being freed
it is not true what they say in old lores
they have no souls so that their heart could bleed

silence is not peace, I know you have never wondered
'tis but a disease, old and rotten not breathing anymore

there are places where when one shall go will always wander
even the deceased, who once had ones worth living for

upon the night darkness weaves an hideous potrait
showing a face and keeping stars from fading away
all who are lost can be more than just be in a cage
you wouldn't know how many dead men you've seen today,


take a look in the mirror.
Notes (optional)
Styles Dec 2014
In my dreams, we're together forever,
on a beach with hot weather.
Rising tides sliding in. ending; never.
Sun shining, over the horizon,
Sea birds slide in, on the blades of the wind. The sun rays beating, down on your tan skin. Sweat collecting, like honey dew, all over you. looking sweeter than my favorite food, on a honey moon.
I'm falling in love with you, not seriously, just the way poets do, with a beautiful concept. I approach the subject,  with admiration and respect.
You are poetry in motion, I'm just getting  set. To paint a potrait,  of a perfect shiloutte, that you won't forget.  Mirror images,  sharing a secret.
KV Srikanth Apr 2022
Declared dead
Reference to life
Lived in this planet
No more to the rest
Burnt or Cremated
Six feet under or
Smokes of a fire
Burning the dead
For the first time
Since birth
Refered to as The Body
Name given Education learnt Position held Money saved
Etiquette used as prefix
In Relation to the family
All forgotten suddenly
Holds no value or sanctity
Body replaced by day
Recalled for remembrance
Reduced to that date
Out of sight
Out of mind
Human experience so far
Out of body
Burnt to ashes
Buried under concrete
Potrait decorates the walls
Lest we humans forget
nosipho Apr 2010
i remember, O yes its clear in my mind,
my eyes were darkened by scales.
On that day...I could not even see the sun's rays.
i tried to take out my sword to cut through, my tears falling
moulding my hands as a cup to catch them
they fell into my veins...became my blood.

I remember yes,i remember very well.
Its as a potrait fresh from an artist's hand,
vividly flashing in my mind as if to trace a memory trail,
i remember the walls, they were four yes...
No...they were round, they sorrounded me.

they were sharp. they poked me.
i felt them cold.penetrating to my skin but I...
I did not want to be part of them you see!.
I...I SHREECHED and i SCRatched till there was no more of me.

and so i just died...my breath with me still.
Then she came, beautiful with her robe swiflty sweeping the floor.
She radiated in light, i heard my scales falling loudly on the ground
as if disturbed by the pleasure of my sight.
She stayed with me throughout the night,
The were
small, shiny, beautiful diamonds in the sky that were looking at me,
i saw them because they were also smiling at me. O yes...(smiling)
i said "Hi", they never could respond.It was well.

I remember, early, frost kissing the grass. Walls
opened as gates, i heard horns singing my praise.
This was all new you see, i was whole.
she took my hand,then my mouth opened as that
of the whale that welcomed Jonah to its belly.
I opened, i spoke, it was melody.
"Excuse me, whats your name?."
"Hope" she said, Hope i repeated.
"You...you are hope", then  i cried.

Yes, i remember it well.
Pea May 2014
"One thing I want you
to know, darling;
you shall accept your
fears."

She understood
the flower's words
not
how to do it.

She still doesn't dare
to scream, to scream,
to scream even when her house is empty
and the neighbors are busy with
their
loud parties.

She is still afraid to cry;
her parents might be aware
of traces of tears on her cheeks
and ask her
"What happened?"
What happened? What really happens?
She doesn't even know
the answer. Never.

The flower knew
its words couldn't do
any change of good of her
yet it chose
such kind words.
Accept it.
Accept it, yes, she could.
She can. She understands.
Like climbing an apple tree
is really easy
for a fish
to think.

"Sorry about that,"
so she says, pointing at
her own weak, fake, forced days of life.

On Tuesday's newspaper;
a potrait of smile and
it's faded.

The flower was afraid
of changing. It was an apple blossom,
now a fruit
you eat one a day to keep
the doctors away.
PS Jul 2016
Walking the gates of eternity
On the pavement of dry roses
Ink of sweat and pen of bones
I thought of the last rain

I was seeking to complete the potrait
Painted with the colours of tears
Every tissue deprived of the warmth
Sun was a myth, moon a magic

Then you happened to me
And I happened to you
The spring in hot summer
Shade in my desert walk

My words are shallow and weightless
Wish i could dip them in love
Hold you with my lines
Paint you with my breath
Summer moon and winter sun of my heart
Every beat longes for you
The smile to entice the roses

Sometimes the dream is too good to be true
And I am a dreamer
I dream the world is still and you are in my arms
My reality is better than that fiction
When you are in me I am me.
Satsih Verma Dec 2016
Butchers were in panic.
The bulls are coming.

Dandelions were
in strike mode.
The Ebola dream
was competing.

Nobody there
sleeps in open.
The stink of dying
poems overwhelms.

Please make a
self-potrait like
Rembrandt ****
without a mirror.

There was no
night watch.
Jayson Monroe Apr 2015
Hurting isn't working
Emotions erroding and flooding
Tears create havoc
For poetic influence
The pain that I feel
Most people ignore
I'm lookin through the window
Of this double glass door
Shatter this glass
Like u shattered my life
Scattered pieces emptied
No more feeling inside
How could you do that?
Look in my eyes
My soul is crying out
From my solitude life
I had everything
My answer was you
Now my anger and depression
Got the best of me too
Writing with a pen
Bleeding through ink
Heart is pouring out
Reality overcomes dreams

Are u feeling my hurt?
Or is this just a blurr
Are you sincere or concerned
For this fire that burns
This is it
Fire burning my heart
My life is the end
From my emotions that start

Picture perfect potrait painted
Leaves my memory freshly tainted
Stained from my past and the history of
Relationships failed is the death of us all
Girls and boys become women and men
Now I thank you for not takin' my hand
Finally this man has moved on
Reopened my heart
Im ready to go the distance
It's not really that far....
kshitiz mehra Jul 2017
Love is for lucky ones,
Not for the shy ones
Not for those who want to be loved,
Love is for "the one",
Not for "that" one,
Even if its real from one way,
Its an illusion for the the one to see it,
Even if you try to potrait it ,u can't ,
Cause your lacking in colours to paint.
LOVE IS JUST A FEELING,THAT YOU WANNA HAVE.YOU HAVE TO HAVE THRILL,GUTS AND REALISM TO ACHIEVE it.
As a writer,I try to
Write write and only write.
Just to spill my thoughts on the board white.
I have no expectations for future be bright.
No tantrum no act of fight.
I just wanna potrait a world right.
Every writer is unique in his/ her own way. what is it you as a writer wanna do..???
NiTSUDD Feb 2017
You may escape me tomorrow
but I've got you now

When our tyrant sun awakens from its dubious slumber as it does each day with impecable reliability, i may once again find myself in solitude.
   And as i lay still and naked on my big brass bed. My room as the only exsistence with any meaning to me. I will wear that same smile once broke and never repaired. For I shall have you framed forever.
   In a lonesome gallery I have your potrait of memoriam. Your innocent pedestrian voice on blissfully hydrated lips, hiding your sultry pleasured toungue and eyes that are a shade of blue too cold to describe.
I am too frightened to consider what could've made eyes like that, yet I could stare for a thousand years.
   And I plan to do just that, for a thousand days like tomorrow when I need a glimpse of a reminder of what artistry there is in this world. I know when you wake in the morning your eyes may shut on this life. But you have opened mine for infinity in this moment.
Satsih Verma Jul 2017
On the mount
a broad-leaved tree was preparing
for self destruction.
It was too cold
under the sun.

A small Christmas tree
with its needle leaves
waits for the snow,
to draw a self-potrait
in bitter winter.

Snow fall makes it
gold, when rain comes
and my hand knives the moon.
Azgar Ali Aug 2019
Oh my sweetest beloved
Do you watched my heartrate?
Where someone,who is artist
has painted your potrait!
Oh my dearest beloved
Do you feelt my feelings?
Where someone,who is physician
has injected you like blood!
Oh my youngest and the oldest soul
Do you understood?
only you are my whole!
Nature has a delicate way toward softening the mighty blow.
"Bob Ross & Trees" extends as a delicate potrait as the basis toward the piece.
Each of us has a unique encounter in having are names up in lights. All too often we fall short in the process.
As Ross had his delicate way of speaking approach it drew us in to venture with our delicate eyes...,
Although he had passed still having every reason to grasp the mere notion of thought toward artistic relevance and excellence attained.



Bob Ross & Trees

look deep
over the horizon
a painting with a brush
the delicate way to incorporate a tree

breath deep
stand still & repeat
the thought of Mr. Bob Ross
goes before the toss

I'm without a loss
keeping it all in to manifest inside
like a glitter let it glide
Bob taught us a lot

to be a sort of smooth operator
always kept everything clean
while living in a land so very mean
colors of personification

drifting and adding
love's unfolding
the measure of the growing
a challenge to be free is a quest of time

sublime
the man with the hair
brought us great cheer
had nothing to fear

colors of red, blue & green
filled up with a marvelous scene
brought people together
no matter what the weather

Bob Ross stood up light as a feather
Mother, you are an angel without wings.
Cannot be compared with any earthlings.
Like any other common being , I wasnt special.
You made a human out of me, groomed me so well.
I was a blank canvas when I was born.
With your angelic touch , a beautiful  potrait was drawn.
You have been through my thick and thin.
When I was ill, you formed the medicine.
Whenever I was down and hurt.
You formed the ultimate comfort.
Detached from umbilical cord,  now a separate unit.
But you and me are the same by heart and spirit.
Your love cannot be counted in numbers.
It overflows through my  puny heart  chambers.
To me you are the sky and you are the earth.
You mean everything to me since my birth.
collin Dec 14
beneath the golden iris
blue glare shared between
waves of a luscious green
more stars than i've ever seen
the beauty i can see
everytime you turn to me

— The End —