Poem Title
A face painted to the eye
A portrait offered to the heart
Builds a feeling built to climb
Touching skies overhead
Amidst high heavens rising
A poem without a title
The ode to loves beginning
Speaks of all that’s seen
And all that’s felt within
In the eye the face painted
Beautiful and pure
Soft skin and petal lips
A look holds gazing
Perfectly framed with hair
Woven tresses curl
Breath taken to silence
Words wait to be written
A ode to loves beginning
A face painted to the eye
A poem without a title
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Paint It
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I wanna see it painted, painted black, oh
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted from the sky
Painted, painted, painted black oh baby
Painted painted, painted black
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paint It Black
I see a red door and I want it painted black,
No colors anymore I want them to turn black.
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes,
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.
I see a line of cars and they're all painted black,
With flowers and my love, both never to come back.
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away,
Like a new born baby it just happens ev'ry day.
I look inside myself and see my heart is black,
I see my red door and I want it painted black.
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts,
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black.
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue,
I could not forsee this thing happening to you.
If I look hard enough into the setting sun,
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes.
I see a red door and I want it painted black,
No colors anymore I want them to turn black.
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes,
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.
I wanna see your face painted black, black as night.
Don't wanna see the sun flyin' high in the sky.
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black, yeah!
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The gallery of my heart
The gallery of my heart
~
Like a portrait hung
In the gallery of my heart
A girl of undoubted beauty
Breathtaking and full of wonder
Holds my gaze completely
I find my words flowing
In a river of adoration
I dedicate her my soul
There is a girl of beauty
Beyond which none compare
Painted to a memory
In the gallery of my heart
The softness of her eyes
A warmth to her lips
Fair skin and cascading hair
What love may imagine
When looking upon
A girl in portrait hung
In the gallery of my heart
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Starts/Ends/Thoughts/Randoms of Poem that Are in Progress
Poem title: Unknown 1
Like a line in a song
Like a letter in word
Poem title: Unknown 2
Keeps you sane
But keeps the pain
Poem title: Unknown 3
Starved for help
Thirsty to be free
Poem title: Free
So turn the key
and unlock the door
set your self free
from this cage
Open the door
and let yourself through
poem by Jenn Koning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dance In Circles
you must have seen how life is painted
by one great artist
a dance in circle
where we hold our hands and
then we keep
revolving around
the axis that we
ourselves form
a merry-go-round on this side
a ferris wheel going up
arm to arm and face to face
we like it
each of us feeling like a ring
without an end without a beginning
we project to the very least
our sense of love for something that is eternal
we say we are not meant just to be here
we are meant for something higher
not rectangular, no longer circular
but something else, we even say this
is something felt and yet unspeakable
something so near us and yet still so far
like how we see the stars as tiny specks
so far away and yet so true and real
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who in a Million Loves Me?
Poem Title: Who in a Million Loves Me? Acrostic Poem 144
Written 22/08/2009.
Who in a Million Loves Me?
Heavens above, my friend do you really need to ask?
Or for just a moment even think you are alone, Well do you? Do you?
In moments dark and dismal view love as a Mammalian Drive.
Not much better than a nagging hunger or an un-quenchable thirst.
Attraction being plain just as the nose upon your face.
Mating epilogue to Lust but we have no need to even venture there.
In Love there comes a time in Life beyond the three overlapping stages,
Lust turning to attraction and glory be Attachment, hopefully for Life.
Love and Attachment is the marital bonding that promotes relationships.
In Love the Brain will constantly release the chemicals essentially required,
Only then my, Friend will you understand, who in a million loves you.
Next time that question comes to your brain, rush to the mirror I pray.
Look in the reflection and say to yourself, I love you, I love you, I do!
Once that task is mastered, Well what else to say? Jesus he Loves you of course.
Virtues you gather in all of Life Paths will serve your irresistible urge.
Ennobled with self love, and the Father the Son and Holy Mother and all.
Seek no longer who in a million Loves Me. Who needs my Love? Is the course.
Make way in the world convey Love endlessly, to every one that you chance to meet.
Eye contact you make, See God as you do, soon knowing “Who in a Million Loves You”
Written in the Now gifted to The 1000th Man with grateful thanks 22th August 2009
poem by Philip Winchester
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perfectly Flawed
I am perfectly flawed,
I am my own enemy,
I hate what I become,
I hate my weight, my height, my face, my race
I hate almost everything about myself,
We are who we chose to be,
I use drugs as my gateway to happiness,
Its the same ol' things I do,
I am a mistake,
I am a disgrace to everyone.
Our perfection will kill us all,
We are perfectly flawed,
We are a thing in the past,
We chose our own deaths through our weight and suicide,
Suicide is a cowards way out,
I am who I am,
We all have our own perfection and flaws,
I am perfectly flawed,
We are beautiful inside and out,
We are who we are.
(I thank Otep for the title to their music but this poem is all freestlye....
Their song got me thinking about this poem....Otep - Perfectly Flawed)
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paint It Black
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and theyre all painted black
With flowers and my love, both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby it just happens evryday
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it has been painted black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not forsee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
Hmm, hmm, hmm...
I wanna see it painted black, painted black
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun, blotted out from the sky
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black
Yeah
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobodys Child
Painted lady, stop that closin in on me,
Painted lady, youre supposed to be a dream,
Painted lady, you better stay away from me.
Painted lady, why you loosinin my tie,
Painted lady, whats that twinkle in your eye,
Painted lady, you better stay away from me.
Painted lady, with your jewels and your beads,
Painted lady, dont you do these dirty deeds,
Painted lady, you better stay here with me.
Nobodys child til I saw the light of your smile.
Painted lady, nobodys child, you have set me free.
Nobodys child, you came in and stayed for a while.
Painted lady, nobodys child, you have set me free.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Poem Is For You Miss Sophisticated
this poem is for you miss
sophisticated
on stilleto shoes
(is my spelling
correct and how
is my diction?)
and painted face
fires of red
and sparkling
diamonds all
around your
dress and expensive
perfume and
branded gowns
that flow like
a manmade
waterfall
this poem
is bad, bad,
nothing
classy at all
for you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Its her
People love her
she loves many
she's a friend to many more
and others will do anything for her
as beautiful as a sunset
precious as a diamond
as valuble as gold
smarter than anyone old
she's not the sharpest woman
but it makes her look innocent
and her Innocence is too cute
it can calm a dangerous brute
her face the best of all
skin - sheets of silk
eye's - fallen stars
mouth - the entrence to paradise
her face was painted by gods
her personality made by happy hearts
her smile.... it cant be described
to look at her is to feel like to fly
lose yourself in her beauty
look into gemma
just to good to be true
but i still love you
poem by Daniel Laurence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Madonna
I haled me a woman from the street,
Shameless, but, oh, so fair!
I bade her sit in the model's seat
And I painted her sitting there.
I hid all trace of her heart unclean;
I painted a babe at her breast;
I painted her as she might have been
If the Worst had been the Best.
She laughed at my picture and went away.
Then came, with a knowing nod,
A connoisseur, and I heard him say;
"'Tis Mary, the Mother of God."
So I painted a halo round her hair,
And I sold her and took my fee,
And she hangs in the church of Saint Hillaire,
Where you and all may see.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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{painted Pink Sky}
My eyes set their gaze across the horizon
The sun is setting in late fall afternoon
Cold snap in the air as the leaves swirl about
A welcoming view is the painted pink sky
Streaks of pale blue dotted with white
Have been suddenly brushed with a soft pastel
The beauty is breathtaking, such natural artistry
I am in awe of the painted pink sky
I think of you now, how magnificent it would be
To find ultimate and much needed serenity
Wrapped up in your strong arms in loves sweet embrace
To be held by you under the painted pink sky
poem by Lillian Jamison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Face
If one could have that little head of hers
Painted upon a background of pure gold,
Such as the Tuscan's early art prefers!
No shade encroaching on the matchless mould
Of those two lips, which should be opening soft
In the pure profile; not as when she laughs,
For that spoils all: but rather as if aloft
Yon hyacinth, she loves so, leaned its staff's
Burden of honey-colored buds to kiss
And capture 'twixt the lips apart for this.
Then her little neck, three fingers might surround,
How it should waver on the pale gold ground
Up to the fruit-shaped, perfect chin it lifts!
I know, Correggio loves to mass, in rifts
Of heaven, his angel faces, orb on orb
Breaking its outline, burning shades absorb:
But these are only massed there, I should think,
Waiting to see some wonder momently
Grow out, stand full, fade slow against the sky
(That's the pale ground you'd see this sweet face by),
All heaven, meanwhile, condensed into one eye
Which fears to lose the wonder, should it wink.
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Face
A face Sir Joshua might have painted! Yea:
Sir Joshua painted anything for pay . . .
And after all you're painted every day.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ten O' Clock, I'm Almost Done
Ten o'clock and I'm almost done
as I'll meet you tonight
Another sip brings another smile
as I'll meet you tonight
But that sip goes down with a bitter taste
And that smile is a grin in that reflection of mine
Another dress trades place again
as you'll meet me tonight
Painted eyes and painted lips
as you'll meet me tonight
But that dress you wear feels wrong in a way
And your face makes a grin in that reflection of yours
'Cause I will use the same old words
to say those things that you want me to say
And you will look happy, but no
it's just because you know that I want you to be
It's not better for me
Face to face in a crowded place
as conversation runs out
And plans are made for another try
as conversation runs out
But I will use the same old words
to say those things that you want me to say
and you wont put the blame on me
You don't think I see what you try to pretend
You won't shock me again
song performed by by Yvonne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem That Is About To Be Written
THE POEM THAT IS ABOUT TO BE WRITTEN
The poem that is about to be written
Will form itself slowly,
Line by line,
Will make of itself a meaning
It does not know.
Will be beyond
All that it could have thought to be – beforehand.
The poem that is being written
Has no name,
No face,
No beauty,
No light,
It is just the poem that is coming to be in the silence,
Where I am alone with my own Seeming.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have The Mind And Mood Of Poetry
I HAVE THE MIND AND MOOD OF POETRY
I have the mind and mood of poetry,
But I have no poem-
And all I can do is wait
And hear the words come
And wonder whether their strength
Is in my own inner quiet
Which loves the words
And loves the poem
And loves the light from my window
And the flowers on the balcony
And all I see and feel and breathe now-
Because Love makes the universe resound
Even when there is only a small poor poem to add to it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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