Reversibility
Unable when to distinguish
the causes which fuel one's concern
The end should not be looked at
but to the beginning one must return
Nothing seems improbable and
it is acceptance most of it all
Setbacks are not impediments and
in reversibility often befall
Let fresh canvas be unsullied
with new easel, paints and brush
Each stroke would mask the dreariness
with hues and tints lush
poem by Sunny Chopra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Paints Life Theme Canvas
research scientist
paints water colours
paints poetry brush strokes
paints poetry beaker pigment
paints life theme canvas
research insistent
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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July Paints of Winter
July paints masterpieces
kissing my canvas with lively breezy strokes
July paints what she sees
adding intrigue to yellow folks
She paints a cold numbing winter
adding icicles on Christchurch trees
She paints a briskly Tasman salty sea
Sitting at a window overlooking her muse
July can't see colour til summer’s shines it's hues
poem by ArmourQuill Hunter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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While Posing.
Mr Clementon says to sit
and wait and pose and you
sit as told and watch as he
prepares the easel and sorts
his brushes and paints and
all the while he sings in a soft
humming undertone his focus
on his task and not at all on you
and you watch and see how slim
his fingers are and not at all like
most men’s fingers are and his
hands are white and his face now
turned to you is shaved clean and
unblemished like a baby’s skin
and you think how soft it must
be to be close to him and sense
his flesh on yours and try and keep
your head still Molly he says firmly
bringing you down to earth and
drawing you from your thoughts
I need you to sit still and not move
unless I say and he begins and his
eyes move from you to the canvas
and back to you again and outside
the window the beginning of rain.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Canvas
Before my eyes brilliant colour, perfection
Dancing gracefully in every direction,
The world of trees, the art of nature
Are simple reasons for a painter.
The power mother nature can release
Could make a painting, a masterpiece
A gallery of natures finest hues,
Enough to stir the most reluctant muse.
Should mother nature tutor me in art
My tree would show a living beating heart,
And should I save one single living tree
My canvas would inspire the world to see.
Red, orange, yellow, green and brown
Colours of beauty my brush would put down
Bright and vibrant Maple Red and Golden Oak
Living, breathing felt with every brush stroke..
©2011
poem by Hazel Connelly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still Life In Oils-De Jour
You painted a most exquisite picture
...Brush stroked her canvas delicately
With feathered brush-a touch
...Tinting with royal hues-
And crimson red coloured views...
'Tis a still life of a woman in degrees...
...A breath-taking piece of divinity...
A true masterpiece of elegance...
...Your virgin work of art...
Captured by your most artistic keen eye
...Creme De la Creme Ala Carte...
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And Once You Will Learn..
As I mix a hundred colours to paint your picture,
My canvas shrinks in size
And cries it foul.
There you stand with a smile mysterious.
As I hold a brush with a thousand quills on it,
My right hand shivers
And calls it uncommon.
Someone stands by you a with a frown.
You think I wouldn’t draw your picture at all.
You feel it’s my indifference
And colossal lack of concern.
Your mind turns into an ocean of skepticism.
Still on my large frame of mind
Your portrait hangs for ever
And there I see your smiling face.
My love has ever been thus…
Once when you begin to learn things,
My canvas and right hand will wither away.
Then your portrait drawn in a thousand colours
Will be your last concern perhaps.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Painted Dreams...
As sleep envelopes the mind, dreams commence,
The artist within paints the landscape of my dream.
A fantasy land of lush green grass and fresh summer blooms,
My spirit warmed by the golden rays of sunlight.
It is neither night nor day, but a timeless twilight,
A time that exists between the waking and the sleeping world.
My lifes story unfolds upon this canvas of painted dreams,
My hopes and fears, my lonliness, my dreams and all my desires.
All I have ever been, all that I could ever be,
A timeless portrate of a dreamers deepest desires...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CX: Ability
It’s not unable, it’s just not a favor
It’s not unable, it’s just reluctance
It’s not unable, it’s just not my style
It’s not unable, it’s just wrong
It’s not unable, it’s just no time
It’s not unable, it’s just out of place
It’s not unable, it’s just not consideration
It’s not unable, it’s just objection
It’s not unable, it’s just not effective
It’s not unable, it’s just stubbornness
It’s not unable, it’s just not important
It’s not unable, it’s just mercy
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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As An Artist
As an artist,
I carefully paint
a picture on my
canvas
with each stroke
I wipe away a tear
causing a smile to
reappear
As an artist
I endow your face
with my brush
making it more
perfect as I go
until at last the
image of my love
I see.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I never know what I'm going to put on the canvas. The canvas paints itself. I'm just the middleman.
~Painting Poetry~
Poetry in thought
words tumble
from my mind
onto the page and screen
like paint dripping
from sable silk brushes
creating new visions
of new realities
in the virtual space
of my Soul
painting a perfect picture
words drip down the canvas
in deep brilliant hues
of purples and reds
and vibrant blues
to soft indigo of
twinkling velvet starlight
yellow tones as warm as sunrize
and golden oranges
of fleeting sunsets
blanket the page and screen
as verse, lyric and rhyme converge
splattering from my tongue
giving form to my dreams
and shape to my fantasies
trailing across
the smooth texture
and terrain of
flesh and muscle
brushes whisper
across the canvas
dance across bodies
images of two entwined
captured boldly
in Nubian hues
of mahogany and mocha
limbs and torsos
move and connect
in a vision of words spoken
caught in the kinetic frenzy
of bodies joined
and poetry painted
across the canvas
of this night’s loving
a masterpiece to behold
for generations to come
culminating in the joining of
pen and brush
words and colors
page and canvas
poetry and paint
poem by Soulful One
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Right Mask
One night a poem came up to a poet
From now on, it said, you must wear a mask.
What kind of mask? asked the poet.
A rose mask, said the poem.
I've used it already, said the poet,
I've exhausted it.
Then wear the mask that's made out of
a nightingale's song, use that mask.
Oh, it's an old mask, said the poet,
it's all used up.
Nonsense, said the poem, it's the perfect mask,
still, try on the god mask,
now that mask illuminates heaven.
It's a tight mask, said the poet,
and the stars crawl about in it like ants.
Then try on the troubador's mask, or the singer's mask,
try on all the popular masks.
I have, said the poet, but they fit so easily.
The poem was getting impatient,
it stamped its feet like a child,
it screamed. Then try on your own face,
try the one mask that terrifies,
the mask only you could possibly use,
the mask only you could wear out.
The poet tore at his face til it bled,
this mask? he yelled, this mask?
Yes, said the poem, yes.
But the poet was tired of masks,
he had lived too long with them,
he snatched at the poem and stuck it in his face.
Its screams were muffled, it wept, it tried to be lyrical,
it wriggled into his eyes and mouth.
Next day his friends were afraid of him,
he looked so distorted.
Now it's the right mask, said the poem, the right mask.
It clung to him lovingly and never let go again.
poem by Brian Patten
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Mable
As I eternalize her on a virgin white canvas
She gazes at me sans a murmur, in a vanilla hush
The cinnamon blends in the tea pot on the mahogany table
As I capture her stroke by stroke, my adoring Mable
She is a bundle of joy to mold, to behold
In her luscious peacock blue as the palms grip and hold
As she struts her hips on the homely cat walk
I stare at her naked curves with a gaze of a sea hawk
She opens her lips as silence partakes
She dazzles in the presence of lavender stakes
In her velvet hat flowing in the breeze
She adorns her blue sans a single crease
As the brush head kisses the canvas floor
She smells like an angel in a jasmine flow
As the nostrils waltz as they embrace the jasmine white
The night is still beginning, ominously bathing in moon light
As the velvet explodes on to the canvas white
Lavenders bloom in to lofty heights
As her head glows in the soft serene breeze
The strokes run amok to capture, even her least
As the blue in her runs lazily on to the fabric wall
The peacocks eyes steal a stare at the glorious hall
The hall of her body, that glitters like sapphires in queue
She a roman goddess, Selene dancing in the dew
The dew that sips the lavenders on top
The dew that bathes the jasmines on her frock
She a beauty like no other on heaven on earth
As she gazes at me from her heavenly perch
As the last stroke is captured from now to an eternity
She lazily smiles, the velvet, the white and the blue shimmering in pretty
My voracious self runs towards her to feel her luscious presence
The paint brush laments the final strokes, in their abject absence
I clasp her too tight with my eager sweat-laden palms
As I kiss her navel with flattering snuggles bathing in my charms
In my haste, she slips from her perch, as free fell her bough
The vase tore in to pieces, my Mable in her last bow
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Artist
An artist paints with brush so old
Makes his painting worth gold
He paints the nature's gifted gifts
The flowing rivers in the midst
Of all he paints is a pretty face
A girl dressed all in lace
Portraying her beauty he is lost in time
The beauty she possessed is hard to find
Was it her beauty he tried to captivate?
But what a pity time doesn't wait
For she has gone so far away
Leaving her image with the artist to stay
Who paints her all through day and night?
Seeking pleasure deep inside
poem by Meena Mustafa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nature Paints
Nature Paints
Nature paints the sky in blue,
Then adds the fluffy spots of white
Which sometimes hide the fuel
Of fiery sphere - light
A relief that gives a gracious smile
Nature paints the high mountains green
An emerald of an incline climb
Extending stairway to heavenly dreams,
The peak is in a target's reach
Our nature paints the dark stained soil
A symbol for our hard day's toil
What in its core does treasure hides?
Seek the rainbow you will find
All colors that our artist binds
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Can't Brush Me Off
Why don't you just give in?
Just like a Siamese twin
I mean to stick to you
Until you do
I won't take it on the chin
You'll never leave me flat
I'm not a "last year's hat"
That you can cast aside
I've got my pride
And I won't stand for that
You can't brush me off
As you would a speck of powder, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can't shout me down
You can yell but I'll yell louder, you can try
But you can't brush me off
You can say you're out but I'll keep phoning
You can tell me goodbye
You can tell me but I
Won't go
No
You can't leave me cold
As you would a plate of chowder, you may try
But you can't brush me off
[2]
What is this all about?
You've got me wrong, no doubt
I give you all my time
Believe me, I'm
Not looking for some way out
I want you for my wife
Sharing my care and strife
And that may not be fun
For when it's done
You're stuck with me for life
You can't brush me off
As you would a fresh mosquito, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can't rub me out
Like a spot on my tuxedo, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can cut me dead but I won't mind it
You may injure my pride
Still I'll never decide
To go
No
You can't drop me fast
As you would a live torpedo, you may try
But you can't brush me off
[3]
You can't brush me off
Like a colored pullman porter, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can't lock me out
Like a frightened farmer's daughter, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can drop a hint but I won't take it
You can tell me bad news
I intend to refuse
To go
No
You can't give me back
As you would a leaded quarter, you may try
But you can't brush me off
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Courage
Even when the greatest ship
of her time
sank in a sea of ice,
even when man’s
reach into outer space
exploded with his rocket ship
in a ball of orange flame,
still the human spirit
did arise to sail the sea again
and to set his mark on the moon.
Above all disasters, setbacks and impediments
courage towers to infinity.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Creators Touch
The Creators Touch
His hand is in everything
In the air we breathe with all living things
The sky's that rain down upon thee
Into the oceans deep and blue
He brush's the colours
Of Mother Natures easel of life
That paints into life
The birds the bee's
Along with the beauty
Of the flowers and tree's
He writes the songs
That the birds sing in the morn
He sways the trees
As the winds rush through thee
He's the droplet of snow
Up high on the mountain top
The raging white rapids
Down a mountains stream
The sun and moon
That shines down upon me
The Creator touch's all
He is everything
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wrapped In Grey
Some folks see the world as a stone
Concrete daubed in dull monotone
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas were dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
How coloured the flowers all smelled
As they huddled there, in petalled prayer
They told me this, as I knelt there
Awaken you dreamers
Adrift in your beds
Balloons and streamers
Decorate the inside of your heads
Please let some out
Do it today
But dont let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey
Some folks pull this life like a weight
Drab and dragging dreams made of slate
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas were dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
Just think how the old masters felt, they call...
Awaken you dreamers
Asleep at your desks
Parrots and lemurs
Populate your unconscious grotesques
Please let some out
Do it today
Dont let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey
And in the very least you can
Stand up naked and
Grin
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wrapped In Grey
Some folks see the world as a stone
Concrete daubed in dull monotone
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas were dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
How coloured the flowers all smelled
As they huddled there, in petalled prayer
They told me this, as I knelt there
Awaken you dreamers
Adrift in your beds
Balloons and streamers
Decorate the inside of your heads
Please let some out
Do it today
But dont let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey
Some folks pull this life like a weight
Drab and dragging dreams made of slate
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas were dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
Just think how the old masters felt, they call...
Awaken you dreamers
Asleep at your desks
Parrots and lemurs
Populate your unconscious grotesques
Please let some out
Do it today
Dont let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey
And in the very least you can
Stand up naked and
Grin
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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