Would that we could at once paint with the eyes! In the long way from the eye through the arm to the pencil, how much is lost!
quote by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Number 2 Pencil
We used to use a number2 pencil
to write down words we knew.
Then we advanced to pen with ink
to write and when we were through
we'd look at what we wrote with pride
and lay the pen aside.
Now we e-mail people and chat.
Pencil and pen have died.
Kids still use a pencil in school
to practice penmanship.
But slowly as they leave that scene
they start to lose that grip.
They text each other with a frenzy.
It never seems to end.
They've lost touch with a number2 pencil
and rarely use a pen.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Ode to Pencils
Pencil o pencil
What would i use to trace the stencil
Possibly crayon, marker, or a pen
Unfortunately they are back in the den
Could i use a pencil with color
They might be much taller
So thanks for the pencil to be born
It is easier to draw when there aren't torn
That is my ode
I hope you thought it flowed
poem by Kristi Miller
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Pencil Rain
The possible dream
Finale of seem
The moment that some call eternal that some call insane
Now helmets on each head awaiting the first lead
The pageant is named the pencil rain
The infantry stands
And holds out its hands
The marshals binoculars focus and skyward they train
Theyre searching the yonder blue
They look out for number two
The heraldry of the pencil rain
And now hear the roar that none can ignore
The thunderous clatter of splintering wood and lives that are claimed
And none who have witnessed all
Can think of a nobler cause than perishing in the pencil rain
The pencil rain
The pencil rain
The pencil rain
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To the Painter Preparing to Draw M.M.H.
Be not too forward, painter; 'tis
More for thy fame, and art, to miss
All other faces, than come near
The Lady, that expecteth here.
Be wise, and think it less disgrace
To draw an angel, than her face;
For in such forms, who is so wise
To tell thee where thy error lies?
But since all beauty (that is known)
Is in her virgin sweetness one,
How can it be, that painting her
But every look should make thee err?
But thou art resolute I see;
Yet let my fancy walk with thee:
Compose a ground more dark and sad,
Than that the early Chaos had,
And show, to the whole sex's shame,
Beauty was darkness till she came.
Then paint her eyes, whose active light
Shall make the former shadows bright,
And with their every beam supply
New day, to draw her picture by.
Now, if thou wilt complete the face,
A wonder paint in every place.
Beneath these, for her fair neck's sake,
White as the Paphian Turtles, make
A pillar, whose smooth base doth show
It self lost in a mount of snow;
Her breast, the house of chaste desire,
Cold, but increasing others' fire.
But how I lose (instructing thee)
Thy pencil, and my poetry!
For when thou hast expressed all art,
As high as truth, in every part,
She can resemble at the best,
One, in her beauty's silence dressed,
Where thou, like a dull looker-on,
Art lost, and all thy art undone;
For if she speak, new wonders rise
From her teeth, chin, lip, and eyes;
So far above that excellent
Did take thee first, thou should repent
To have begun, and lose i'th'end
Thy eyes with wonder how to mend.
At such a loss, here's all thy choice,
Leave off, or paint her with a voice.
poem by James Shirley
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Paint Me Down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im walking into studio
Consider strange appeal
Paint me in the home
Im brushing up on sketchbook
Designs for love unreal
Paint me in the home
Oil and skin youll need to buy it
Consider what I mean
She sinks beneath thr moving pictures
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im soaking up the surface
Conceaiving new idea
Paint me in the home
Shes oiling up her subject
But all still life is here
Paint me in the home
All the boys with framed dimension
A cover up on lust
Hell take his pain and paint it over
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lost Boy's
Urban concrete jungle
In the twilight hours
This is where the lost boys are.
Kaleidoscope eyes,
Discordant vowels
These are the marks the lost boys make.
Electronic beats,
Songs of angst
These are the sounds the lost boys need.
Sad panda eyes,
Downward faces
The war paint of the lost boys.
Drum boogie,
Anti fashion,
This is what the lost boys wear.
Rejected by society,
Reminders of youth since lost
This is who the lost boys are.
Two o'clock shadows
Artificial mist provides cover
As the lost boys slip home.
On the dance floor,
By the bar
This is where the lost boys are.
poem by Amos Greig
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Modern Eyes
She know you bad
You don't sing songs of love
She treats you right, she treats you like a web of love
You know who's of the heart, her notions of societies
You belong to know and just like our sophiaties
[Chorus:]
Modern eyes
Modern eyes, to see what you want to see
Modern eyes
Modern eyes, she'll paint you with the modern eyes
What you look for in people is not hard to recognize
Black man, white man, short man
They're all the same in size
You breath the air, you feel the sea and the sand and the skies
When nighttime comes you blind men with modern eyes
[Repeat chorus]
She'll paint you with the hupskin on
She'll paint you with the fire in your eyes
She'll paint you with the modern eyes
[Repeat chorus]
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunsets With A Crimson Colour
We paint our sunsets with crimson colours
a sign of a brighter day tomorrow.
We paint our earth with blues and green,
the oceans, lakes and land.
However, we paint ourselves invisible
with the use of slight of hand.
How long will we paint with colours
if we carry on the way we do.
The crimson will become a dusty brown
for the dust cloud we created.
The green will become black,
chard and empty of everything.
The waters that were blue
will run red with the dead,
polluted beyond repair,
unless we open our eyes now
and our world we start to take care.
Hopefully, then once again we can paint
our sunsets with a crimson colour.
3 September 2011
poem by David Harris
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Paint my eyes in flowers
paint my hands in dragons
paint my back in windings
paint my arms in lightening
paint my neck in anks
my forehead intricate lines
paint my shoulder butterflies
paint my heart in henna
in henna of red in henna of black
body paint my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Lost My Faith
We both know
That the harder we try
Can't understand it
We're so caught up in the reasons why
Station to station
And we couldn't even say their names
I realized it
Was just a game
I had lost my faith
Long ago
I had lost my faith
Long ago
I can see
That if I stay close to your side
All of my pressures now
I know they will subside
If ever you need me
All you gotta do is fall
I hear you sayin'
That you got it all
I had lost my faith
Long ago
I had lost my faith
Long ago
A stranger so it seems
I lie here for you touch
But what I'd like to know
Is why do I want you so much
You say that's all the same
All through my life
I have
Waited for you
And
Have you waited too
are you feeling what I'm feeling
Ohhhh.... I
I had lost my faith
Long ago
I had lost my faith long ago
I had lost my faith
Long ago
I had lost my faith
Long ago
I lost my faith
I lost my faith
I lost my faith
Ohh love
song performed by by Seal from Human Beings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pencil
I finished my Homework
Late last night
Feeling sleepy,
Did not do it Right.
I threw My Pencil
Away from my desk,
Finishing my homework
For the sake of completing it.
I was sleepy
But I knew
Something happened…
I din-no
Whether the brain of
That wooden guy got awakened
But My PENCIL!
Just woke up
It looked a bit funny
It came near me,
Looking rather Angry
With its short weak legs
Ha! Ha! Ha!
But tripped on my scale…
I giggled…
It looked up at me,
VERY FURIOUS!
With a dirty look of revenge
Chased me all over
I ran to the bedroom
The pencil still chasing me..
I hid under the blanket
Stayed there for a while
And later peeped outside
I heard a strange noise,
Which tempted me to glance again
I looked up
To my amazement did I Discover
My PENCIL!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
He was snoring..
He was of course tired…
A long poem was it indeed
Shh! Now U!
NO NOISE!
You'd disturb him
He'd then wake up
And Jump on my nose…
His fierce face still threatens me..
Just finish the Poem
Move away
REAL QUIET
Aww..
Goodnight
poem by Rishi Kaashyap
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Paint body art beautiful
her majesty the hand
with nail graffiti polish
pain in henna red
paint in henna black
paint paint my heart
paint body art faithful
faithful to the strokes
paint in strokes divine
paint in strokes of red
paint in strokes of black
paint paint my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Butterfly Gone
Speak little
Take a pencil
Or a paintbrush
Emancipate the lust
In your left brain
In every bend of the strokes
In every blot of the paint
And outside the canvass
Find the lambaste
Of a butterfly gone
poem by Norman Santos
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Cheney
The Paint-King, envious of his cunning art,
To him the tinted palette would not lend;
So has he dipped the pencil in his heart,
And with his light and shade its hues still blend.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Nails Match My Heart
my nails match my heart
'Lost Love' that's what its called
as pal as my nails my heart is
if only i could paint my heart
as easily as i paint my nails
red would be a nice color for the heart
does red match with how it feel
No! 'Lost Love' does
have i ever found love that paints my heart red
will i ever find that love that will slowly paint it
with tender strokes
so perfectly that nothing will ever ruin it
for now 'Lost Love' is the color it will stay
and tomorrow will hopefully be a new day
my nails match my heart
poem by Pilar Guethon
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Painter’s Agony
I want to paint that river
And the scene behind it
The boat and the boatmen
I know everything about
That river
My association with the river
Many a hundred memories
Evenings and sunshines
Floods and slow water
I have lived my life
On the bank of that river
I want to paint
Paint it with the most beautiful colors
I want to borrow some colors
From the colors of paradise
And I love the town
That lives beside the river
Old and dusty
Where shall I take you
In that small town
Every nook and corner
Shall tell you that it knows me
I want to paint that town
In colors of heaven
I want to carry a few children
And take them on a tour
I want to see the town with their eyes
And then go to the riverbank
And meditate for a while
Drink the wine of nature
And get lost into the world of beauty
And flow with the river
Enter every house
My heart throbs in harmony
With every heart in the town
Give me colors divine
Colors from the other world
For I want to paint
That river and that town
(This poem is about a small town on the bank of river Indus)
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Camera vs, Pencil
Exactly same and true
Picture of objects wonderful
The magical instrument
Captures the real image
But real things become still
Logics, camera can't fill
Images, camera only captures
Pencil gives birth to a picture
The sketches drawn by pencil
Speak and make you feel
Not only liveliness of the object
But compels one too, to interpret
Camera can't take image of soul
Pencil draws sketch of in and out
camera and pencil's combination
can fetch reality, feel and imagination
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Beautiful Bashful Eyes
Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
I love your beautiful bashful eyes.
They remind me of a song.,
a song to describe their color
and their lids that are half closed.
They never let me see behind them.
What they're feeling is never exposed.
Big beautiful bashful eyes
are lost in timid intent.
I wish for them to open wide
to see where they have spent
their shy-retiring gazes?
Were they ever looking my way?
Or were they lost in silent thought
afraid that they might stray
And find that all around you
eyes would be looking your way?
My eyes would be among them
and you would hear me say.
'Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
you've captivated my attention
and are now the words to my song.
'Beautiful eyes, bashful and blue
my thoughts are lost in you.
Your lashes long, your lids dreamy-eyed,
no one can tell what secrets they hide.
I have secrets my eyes hide too.
They're all about my feelings for you.
Those bashful eyes have become for me
everything that I dreamed they would be.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sonnet: Whither Thy Art, Man?
Yes, men and women, paint their eyelashes,
And dye their hair in hues and paint their nails;
And wear head-bands, multi-colored sashes,
And paint the tortoises and shells of snails.
Some paint their bodies fully or one-half;
Some paint their country’s flag over their face;
Some look like leopards, lions, clowns that laugh;
Some tattoo pictures or paint words so base.
Some paint their naked bodies as if dressed
Or apply stickers of men, Gods or beast;
Their art on human skins looks to them best
And dance in ritual for a sumptuous feast.
The art of man has gone so crazy now,
For men paint Dogs, cats, cattle, also cow.
poem by John Celes
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Paint
Don't paint me red,
Red is for bold women that use cheap scent
Don't paint me blue
Blue is for sadness and regret
Don't paint me green
Green is for envy and not to be seen
Don't paint me black
black is for the night and I love the light
Don't paint me white
White is for virgins and me, I love a flirtin'
Don't paint me orange
Orange is vile and I have some style
Don't paint me brown or grey or cream
these colours are boring and really not me.
Paint me in silver, platinum or gold
so I remain precious as I grow old.
poem by Ruth Walters
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