Best Brushes Poems

Dogs pant in the sweltering, humid air
that morphs into dewdrops as the night cools.
And summer swimwear isn't seen anywhere,
now that the kids have returned to their schools,
abandoning their sandcastles and pools.

The leaves are slowly getting drained of green,
changing color as they prepare to die.
And cottage...

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Still life.  What bite have my grapes and plums?
I capture the glaucous coating — the powdery residue.

A fairytale gown needs just the right godmother-dusting of azure.

The sparkling suds and frothy thrust! The concoction of a great day
— my brush reveals teal and Caribbean waves....

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our
words freeze
on a page-
a moment of
time

A tribute to all imagist poets (especially here on PS)...

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Previous training
Had me mopping
Croutons in the foreground.
I'd always been
Under or back
And loaded with brushes.
Now my "project-defined"
Had purposely left
My "effects-bank"
With no filename. 
Since I to
Had nine options
I selected them all.
It gave me the jiffies
In no time at all.
The series selected
Underscored what was
A housed initial setup.
Mirroring errors
Raised...

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housewife brushes teeth
after busy day, black specks ....
vine ripe blueberries?  




My husband brought in blueberries for me to wash and prepare for him to put in the freezer. I ate some as I was working, when I brushed my teeth getting ready for bed,...

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Sharp ivory brushes my torso
Pain, but pleasure’s persistent
A flash of boredom that coinsides
With 
Saliva and other 
Suspitions.
Answers lay just beyond
Splashes of color and
Juxtaposed likenesses
My squealing snout hides me
And my pink flesh exposes
But covered with fiery illusion
From days in a ring of fire
My voice illudes as...

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Quote By Poet "One can paint with paints. One can paint with words."

Oh, to open a fresh can of paint,
can you smell the color?
A bright sunny yellow paint fills this can,
my brush will bring in the sunlight.

Today, I will paint with words,
red for the new...

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wind brushes feathers

blending air and sky as one

yellow and green, blue

 

 

(February 4, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved...

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The hour grows late, as hours grow late, 
They crawl like a thief in the night; 
With devilish art to administrate, 
Diminishing sight and purloining the light. 

Blood, sweat and toil, hot water and oil, 
Fever dispensed with a flair; 
Fervour and temperature brought to...

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Dawn’s xanthous blooming through the forest trees.
Bouquet from God’s hand suddenly immersed in light.
Flaming pine without a flicker, matchless crimson seize.
Skinny oaks like a garden gate, applauds pleasing sight.
O blaze of origin -
Sun’s ancient grin.
That was art and then the brush of current events -
First...

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smoke signal of clouds
asking God to stop the rain —
paint cans sealed near gate

1/17/2019...

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Where did my paint brushes go? Asked the mole.
I will help you look said the crescent moon, once so whole.
I see them but I am keeping it a secret said McPink.
He liked seeing the boot way up high, on the sink.

Why would I have used...

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Ancient painted woodland rushes, 
nature's beauty, painted thrushes, 
homeland under vivid bushes, 
lovely Indian Paintbrushes. 

Deepest, dearest, darkest red, 
scented, softly in my head. 
velvet stem and softest leaf 
colored beyond all belief. 

Tickling that which it touches,
sentry keeping guarded watch as 
danger passes, gentle...

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Masterpiece

Paint me a picture.
Add some red, blues and greens.
Show me the "me" that you wish to be.
Will I be contained or will I be free? 
Add your brush strokes. One by one and we'll see.
What will you use? Which paints fit me best?
Perhaps acrylics will...

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I want to paint a portrait of you
I have a brush, but what do I do?
What is the colour of your soul?
Is it really as black as coal

Horse hairs paint your insides out
Your heart is what you’re all about
I see it yellow, red, pink and...

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