Poems About Art Seeking Friendly Advice
#art
wolfatthedoor1966
Poem Published
25th Apr 2024 2:21am
25th Apr 2024 2:21am
art book
take
your page,
post your
artwork,
sketch
or draw
whatever
you decide,
whatever
you see
or imagine,
what
you want
on
those pages,
black
and white,
vibrant
pastels,
water colors,
learn
sign
your name,
one day
someone
may want
to purchase
your decisions
or imagination.
your page,
post your
artwork,
sketch
or draw
whatever
you decide,
whatever
you see
or imagine,
what
you want
on
those pages,
black
and white,
vibrant
pastels,
water colors,
learn
sign
your name,
one day
someone
may want
to purchase
your decisions
or imagination.
#art
#freedom
#learning
#passion
#success
162 reads
4 Comments
jemac
Poem Published
5th Apr 2024 9:53pm
5th Apr 2024 9:53pm
Frida
she weeps in flowers
they grace her table
along with globs of paint
brushes stand in wait
aged and smooth from weary hands
stained with feelings of rebirth
slowly she paints
flowers convalesce
on a background
of muted tones
they flourish
each petal gracefully unfurls
easing her image
into a bounty of rich hues
where they are free to hang
bend without breaking
knowing no hardship
she imagines her
tears pooling in the vase
so clear and without the fog
of...
they grace her table
along with globs of paint
brushes stand in wait
aged and smooth from weary hands
stained with feelings of rebirth
slowly she paints
flowers convalesce
on a background
of muted tones
they flourish
each petal gracefully unfurls
easing her image
into a bounty of rich hues
where they are free to hang
bend without breaking
knowing no hardship
she imagines her
tears pooling in the vase
so clear and without the fog
of...
#flowers
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry
#art
#admiration
273 reads
9 Comments
wolfatthedoor1966
Poem Published
5th Apr 2024 8:06am
5th Apr 2024 8:06am
the porch
the porch,
my learning
tool,
it's feet,
it's arms,
wide eyes
and constant
stare,
colored like
those of
mostly summer,
edges of
other seasons
lay in
the edges,
each day
in between
porch posts,
it's
wide mouth
vibrates
and once
tapping
each board,
brushed
with ideas
of casual
replies.
my learning
tool,
it's feet,
it's arms,
wide eyes
and constant
stare,
colored like
those of
mostly summer,
edges of
other seasons
lay in
the edges,
each day
in between
porch posts,
it's
wide mouth
vibrates
and once
tapping
each board,
brushed
with ideas
of casual
replies.
#home
#learning
#freedom
#art
#passion
163 reads
6 Comments
Pinkdreams
Poem Published
4th Apr 2024 4:47am
4th Apr 2024 4:47am
Spin it Black
It was a thing at the time
in tourist towns everywhere
i aligned with it in Gatlinburg, Tennessee
the summer before first grade
my cousin Sue Rose
an old girl of 14
is watching me squeeze condiment bottles of paint
onto the fast-spinning little canvas
round and round it goes
as i squeeze pink and blue and lime green
Sue Rose keeps exclaiming how pretty it is!
for some reason this bothers me
I grab the pointy tipped bottle of black
wrap both of my little hands around it
and give a mighty...
in tourist towns everywhere
i aligned with it in Gatlinburg, Tennessee
the summer before first grade
my cousin Sue Rose
an old girl of 14
is watching me squeeze condiment bottles of paint
onto the fast-spinning little canvas
round and round it goes
as i squeeze pink and blue and lime green
Sue Rose keeps exclaiming how pretty it is!
for some reason this bothers me
I grab the pointy tipped bottle of black
wrap both of my little hands around it
and give a mighty...
#dark
#childhood
#art
225 reads
6 Comments
Pinkdreams
Poem Published
1st Apr 2024 3:57am
1st Apr 2024 3:57am
The Art of Forgetting
At my age, my short-term memory sometimes sputters like a dollar store lighter. My long-term memory, however, flares bold and bright. Though I have the requisite sunny happy memories, a few ancient negative experiences sometimes outshine them. Can I really still be bothered by a bad experience in first grade, so many decades ago? Yeah. Watch.
. For the first three months of that year, I was only five. Way too young to be told I suck at art, but that is indeed what happened.
I remember the private school classroom perfectly. Tidy rows of brown desks. Large windows...
. For the first three months of that year, I was only five. Way too young to be told I suck at art, but that is indeed what happened.
I remember the private school classroom perfectly. Tidy rows of brown desks. Large windows...
#art
#SelfWorth
272 reads
10 Comments
wolfatthedoor1966
Poem Published
29th Mar 2024 3:38am
29th Mar 2024 3:38am
spectacle
that lonely
blooming
flower,
strong
enough
to stand
up in
the crack
through
the sidewalk,
displaying
its brightness
compared to
that
dull gray-white
finish
of footsteps,
where
you will
have
your children,
to wait
while
the wind
divides them.
blooming
flower,
strong
enough
to stand
up in
the crack
through
the sidewalk,
displaying
its brightness
compared to
that
dull gray-white
finish
of footsteps,
where
you will
have
your children,
to wait
while
the wind
divides them.
#flowers
#nature
#freedom
#art
#passion
172 reads
6 Comments
missjem56
Poem Published
28th Mar 2024 3:59pm
28th Mar 2024 3:59pm
Poseur
I wonder if naturists
See me as a nudity prostitute
As i'm paid
For being naked
In front of a small throng
Of budding artists
Like a life modelling gangbang
I remain chaste
Rather than chased
No fun, or frolics
Just hard core posing
For hard cash
For my two hour flash dash
I'm a conducter
Of an orchestra
Of a myriad palettes
Paintbrushes, pencils, pens, and pastels
Connect with lily white paper
Leaky interpretations
Of me!
I have about thirty of them
Adorning my hall wall
They could...
See me as a nudity prostitute
As i'm paid
For being naked
In front of a small throng
Of budding artists
Like a life modelling gangbang
I remain chaste
Rather than chased
No fun, or frolics
Just hard core posing
For hard cash
For my two hour flash dash
I'm a conducter
Of an orchestra
Of a myriad palettes
Paintbrushes, pencils, pens, and pastels
Connect with lily white paper
Leaky interpretations
Of me!
I have about thirty of them
Adorning my hall wall
They could...
#nature
#LifeAsAWriter
#LifeCycle #art
#LifeCycle #art
162 reads
1 Comment
Northern_Soul
-Missy-
-Missy-
Poem Published
24th Mar 2024 7:19pm
24th Mar 2024 7:19pm
Still Life
If we broke it down
into palatable pieces
I’d of said something
about Jackson Pollock
and the colour of blood
how I’d never seen red
roll down glass outside
of movies.
Perhaps there’d be
the part where your spit
hit a cheek. How it burned
with the fury of lava—
this skin, a village
waiting for destruction
all terror,
all terror in the flood.
Some days, I float above fists
thinking of them as canvasses
on crooked easels. Blots
on fingers, feet &...
into palatable pieces
I’d of said something
about Jackson Pollock
and the colour of blood
how I’d never seen red
roll down glass outside
of movies.
Perhaps there’d be
the part where your spit
hit a cheek. How it burned
with the fury of lava—
this skin, a village
waiting for destruction
all terror,
all terror in the flood.
Some days, I float above fists
thinking of them as canvasses
on crooked easels. Blots
on fingers, feet &...
#art
#StreamOfConsciousness
#DomesticViolence #metaphor
#DomesticViolence #metaphor
327 reads
12 Comments
wolfatthedoor1966
Poem Published
9th Mar 2024 8:18pm
9th Mar 2024 8:18pm
around and around
around
and around
this world
she goes,
clear
locations
outside
her windows,
a simple
promise
she makes
to herself,
she holds
them close
in
her hands,
blessed by
the truth,
and
the chance
to share
her talent,
herself.
and around
this world
she goes,
clear
locations
outside
her windows,
a simple
promise
she makes
to herself,
she holds
them close
in
her hands,
blessed by
the truth,
and
the chance
to share
her talent,
herself.
#identity
#travel
#freedom
#art
#culture
184 reads
6 Comments
Thor_Azine
Poem Published
9th Mar 2024 2:18pm
9th Mar 2024 2:18pm
Paint Yourself Beautiful
The sun lies in wait and the
sky is wearing gray flannel today.
I hear a dove cooing outside,
the rain is coming.
I woke at 3:33 am
with a message received.
Take back your paintbrush and
stop letting other people
paint your life.
I can still feel the sun
and the sky has bluejeans on too.
Birds are singing new songs
and the rain washes the gray away.
The canvas has a way
of changing when you hold
the brush and choose the paint.
You're already the artist,
be the art.
Paint...
sky is wearing gray flannel today.
I hear a dove cooing outside,
the rain is coming.
I woke at 3:33 am
with a message received.
Take back your paintbrush and
stop letting other people
paint your life.
I can still feel the sun
and the sky has bluejeans on too.
Birds are singing new songs
and the rain washes the gray away.
The canvas has a way
of changing when you hold
the brush and choose the paint.
You're already the artist,
be the art.
Paint...
#beauty
#art
#SelfDiscovery
97 reads
10 Comments
Connotation
Poem Published
28th Feb 2024 1:55am
28th Feb 2024 1:55am
Dichotomy of Mind and Heart
Scientifically, legally obliged,
Unique, original, individual,
Intepretation applies,
Unironically unifying,
With definitions, semantics, observations, context,
Proving conviction,
In motive and intent,
Where beneath the surface,
There is judgment and opinion...
I see potential for art and heart.
Artistic, disposed imagination,
That's literal, physical, technical, carnal,
Perceives emotional attention span,
Vicariously separate,
In pride, prejudice, bias, and partiality,
Where any truth...
Unique, original, individual,
Intepretation applies,
Unironically unifying,
With definitions, semantics, observations, context,
Proving conviction,
In motive and intent,
Where beneath the surface,
There is judgment and opinion...
I see potential for art and heart.
Artistic, disposed imagination,
That's literal, physical, technical, carnal,
Perceives emotional attention span,
Vicariously separate,
In pride, prejudice, bias, and partiality,
Where any truth...
#science
#humankind
#art
#metaphor
#morality
278 reads
9 Comments
Connotation
Poem Published
22nd Feb 2024 00:19am
22nd Feb 2024 00:19am
Loss of Inspiration
In the abyss of the deep, only grey matter reflected.
My breath was swept away by a witch's broom.
Secrets of dust were under a rug.
Astonishment took over like a surprise.
Magical, a flying carpet goes over my head, like deception.
The spell of time enthralled me with its flickering eminence of expiration.
My candle was hidden and about to burn out.
Hands on the wall, 6 o'clock, my attention was arrested.
Straight up and down, a power broadcast.
The thief in the night came and ransacked.
My captivated spirit. ...
My breath was swept away by a witch's broom.
Secrets of dust were under a rug.
Astonishment took over like a surprise.
Magical, a flying carpet goes over my head, like deception.
The spell of time enthralled me with its flickering eminence of expiration.
My candle was hidden and about to burn out.
Hands on the wall, 6 o'clock, my attention was arrested.
Straight up and down, a power broadcast.
The thief in the night came and ransacked.
My captivated spirit. ...
#identity
#spiritual
#prose
#art
#metaphor
223 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Art Seeking Friendly Advice
