People say I've had brushes with the law. That's not true. I've had brushes with overzealous prosecutors.
quote by Mark Duffy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Shopkeeper’s Story
I sell one bristle brushes. People
seeking two bristle brushes I send
to the guy on Amsterdam, who’s in a rush.
I may have one customer a year
for my one bristle brushes, a one-eyed
lover of tanagers, she may have
one dollar to spend in the moment
light’s neither day’s or night’s,
but one’s where infinity begins. Whoever
she is, she’s always painting barbules,
I’m always thinking, no one will notice
that they notice this, that her tanagers
move, that everything’s alive. We talk
care and feeding of the one
bristle brush. Care exists. I thrive.
Paintings by fliss IV Painted Words
You take My words
Brushes in hand
Blank canvas on stand
The curve of a woman
The strings of rust
The weeping guitar
In your brushes you trust.
From my words you summon
And bring to life
The poems I write
Guitar fading
Waiting to be held
Your art works amazing
poem by Robert Green
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ecstasy (As You Sleep)
ecstasy,
sheds the skin,
comes out of the shell....
leaves the firelit cave,
for the darkness,
and shadows' whisper
among the trees....
takes the kiss of wind
over the door well latched....
jumps from the ledge
never knowing how deep
or how cold the water below!
walks the forbidden mile,
fights the battle already lost,
with the conviction of desire....
brushes the nipple with fingers
piano key walking.....
almost kissing with fingertips
well worn and sure....
blows on the rain wet ember
believing in fire....
brushes the hair from your face,
watching, as you sleep!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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While Hair Brushing
Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother
had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits
and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then
as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time
she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him
there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his
hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she
was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair
again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Grandma
Knots and tangles in my hair,
grandma sitting on her chair,
me in front on a stool so low,
brushes and combs all in a row.
Grandma would wash it every day,
Saying 'We do this first, then you play.'
Waiting for the feel of every pull,
this became our ritual.
I anticipated every tug.
When we finished we would hug.
But before I'd leave she'd make a bow,
all different colors she'd use to show
that my hair was something she loved to see.
It was long and shiny black, like ebony.
I treasure her looks and the moments spent,
the combs, the brushes and her looks of content.
My grandma made me feel like a queen,
like the prettiest thing she'd ever seen.
Now as my hair is turning gray
I remember the words she used to say,
'Sit down dolly and I'll comb your hair.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The bad calligrapher is choosy about his brushes.
The fox goes through the corn and does not eat, but brushes it down with his tail.
A toothbrush rush
Could I try to
Save self, save us, save the world?
Let's take one soft tooth brush
and start to clean own heart
of every dark spot,
or rust stain
or the mischievous thought
before it comes to be
a putrid mould.
Brush kindly
for rebel stains
that out comes not
in tears soak.
Put more energy,
one gram of salt
and bit more energy
rub well to truly clean
until becomes pristine.
Then go to those near by
with new tooth brushes
as humble gift
and teach them, show
how you have cleaned
own soul.
Then together
take more brushes
and start to clean some more
maybe the biggest dirt of world,
own violent mind, let the clean be done
kindly, by a homely toothbrush.
Then with a peaceful heart
Done to the people of entire earth
from the pit to the top
once brushed, gurgle
and also rinse the big mouth
We can then start
with all the other
things around
Hard to select
But let's start first
To get rid of our biggest s...t
Lets make the world as well as we,
...nuclear...
Free.
Peacefully, with patience
let's give our earth clean
Love.
poem by Elena Sandu
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Angela
Cant eat, cant sleep, cant seem to find time anymore
Somewhere she weeps, her hair gently brushes the floor
I know my way, I know that Ill find her somehow
Chorus:
Angela carries me back to the time
When I knew that her love was still mine
Angelas holding the child in her womb
And I pray that she will be calling soon
Cold moon, dark sky, Im watching my mind disappear
She sits alone, not knowing that I am so near
Why cant she hear my voice as I call out her name
Chorus
Its a silly situation, its just infatuation, no need to be sorry
Cant eat, cant sleep, cant seem to find time anymore
Somewhere she weeps, her hair gently brushes the floor
I know my way, I know that Ill find her somehow
Chorus
Its a silly situation, its just infatuation, no need to be sorry
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Instead of using brushes all the time, try a palette knife to paint.
quote by Frank Bruno
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The butterfly that brushes against thorns will tear its wings.
first snow
new geisha brushes her face
pale white
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, As a moth brushes a window with its wing.
quote by Christopher Fry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I continue to get further away from the usual painter's tools such as easel, palette, brushes, etc.
quote by Jackson Pollock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The business of peace requires more than showing up with paint brushes, foodstuffs and an oil pipeline or two.
Learning from the Good Friday
Animals do not cry over death and loss.
Death and loss are not avenged by them too.
Prosecutors, victims and rescuers unheard,
Sins and punishments are man's handicrafts.
Forgiveness is the man reasoned virtue.
The forgiver does not feel a victim
And preempt the possibility of
Making the forgiven a victim in turn.
Jesus has forgiven the prosecutors,
Who ordered Him to be crucified.
He held no more himself a victim
Nor were the prosecutors made victims.
06.04.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Careless Light Of Day
In November
the careless light of day
sometimes
seems to be led astray
nevertheless
when unexpectedly
it brushes against
we're arrested by
there are no words to say
except that
we wouldn't have it any other way
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Paint and Brushes
When I'm sad, my depression sinking in
paint and brushes become my best friend
dots and strokes, black is my color
pouring out my soul
poem by Dagmar Wilson
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I think the work that they do and the style of 3D graphics is absolutely fabulous and I think it's a great brush to use for some stories. And there are other brushes that I think are exclusive to a different kind of story.
Menno Krant's Cat
Mister Menno is playing
With a polydactyl cat
They both the rarest of breeds
Are do such without trying
Possessing unique dexterity
Demarking originality
God broke their elegant mold
There are no copies
She is at his easel impromptu
Chasing oily slippery cherry
Furtive follow for their forage
Flowing frantic feather frenzy
As his paint brushes
She brushes
Lunges violent
Leaping luscious
There is grace
Bewildering beauty
Prolific peculiar proclivities
Affinity between
Their very own and mutual
Pristine primeval sensibilities
They are purring perfect
Magnificent exquisite
Dancer-Painter symbiosity
They sweep stride brush bold beholding
Yet they are oblivious mutations enraptured
Supernatural organic process
Muted in their understandings less stated
Incomparable magnificent mutual organics
Original exclusive castings
copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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