Best Canvas Poems
I am a blank canvas
My potential is
limitlessness
But that all depends
on who holds the
brush, the artist
Alexis Y.
11/15/19
Looking close at the blank canvas.
Impressions he wanted displayed.
Stroking slow and pressing his brush
an image came forth from Monet.
Laying dormant all of Her life.
Her moment in time had arrived.
The feelings She felt from within,
were delicate strokes, brushed by him.
They were gentle and soft to feel,
and made his love all the more real.
She was sad to feel him finish,
as Her tears fell and relinquished.
He assured her he'd never leave,
and in Her Heart She felt so pleased.
In completion of Her He saw,
His Masterpiece hung on His wall.
Michael Tor
I asked my Lord Jesus
to help in writing.
Inspired by my late
father Rene, a hobby
Painter and Sculpturer.
Also inspired by John
Watt and his PoemThat
Starry Night a Poem
about Vincent Van Gogh.
The Canvas
She painted her emotions with a dark brush
My heart sunk into her canvas
Transported to an endless sadness
She greets me there with a smile
Her light not visible from the other side
"Come" she says
"There are many rooms to explore"
She skips along yesterday's corridors
I follow in tentative foot falls
She looks back, "Here it is, this is where we'll begin."
Through the door we go in
In an instant she disappears
I wonder was she ever here
Then a silent voice whispers in my ear
"Watch and listen, all will unfold"
I watch in silence; my heart feels cold
A mother in a hospital bed
Two baby girls
One of them dead
Tears of joy now sad instead
She whispers "do you see?? Happy Birthday, little me."
I hear her giggle in another room
So, I walk through another door,
a toddler alone on the floor
Mom sitting, at a table with a drink
Little girl starts crying
Mom doesn't even blink
The scene changes
A parade of men
Mom needs her lovers
over and over again
In the night
When mom's asleep
Into the girl’s room, the demons creep
On the bed, there she lays
She leaves her mind
While the bad man plays
I scream
I want him to stop
Her so helpless
Him there on top
The whisper returns "There is nothing to do,
I want you to know the source of my blue."
I say, "please I can take no more"
With that she says, "there is just one more door."
She is back, she takes my hand
I walk through a door to her promised land
The darkness, is all stripped away
She is young once more, it's bright as day
She turns and smiles, " I'm okay,
long ago I learned to pray."
I said "I do not understand,
how could he let that happen to you?
Is he not to blame for your world of blue?"
She looks again with knowing smile
"You will understand in a while.
One day all answers he will reveal,
best understood when you learn to kneel."
From her canvas
My mind wishes release
Flowing into my heart, an ancient peace
On humbled footsteps, my journey within
A world of shadows, canvas thin
I see beyond sadness
I search within
This dark picture,
brushed stroked on my mind
Her life touched by sin,
Is now redefined
No longer is she broken
I watch her light grow
She says "I'm okay,
it's time for you to go.
By: Richard Lamoureux
canvas of pond etched in gray...
tulip frames a halo
Rick Parise's One Broken Monoku
by nette onclaud
12/1/2014
A blustery breeze blows through the half-opened window
of this secluded second story loft
sun rays pulse upon the silken fibers of your hairs
as my once dried out paint brush comes to life
The blank canvas sprouts wings
as your spirit dances in shades of
soft browns, vibrant yellows and seas of blues
capturing the essence, grace and beauty of you
curves so smooth and sensual
eyes inviting and intoxicating
cheeks a rich rosy red
little smile calling me home to
share in the solemn secrets of your bed.
Your emotions are evoked in each stroke I take
Your dreams and desires asleep, dare not I wake
Forces of the universe produce a wonderous array of spectacles afar.
Monstrous planets rotating around just one lustrous inferno of a star.
Myriads of illuminated stars are part of the yet unexplored distant space.
Nature not to be outdone displays ecstasy in many an enchanted place.
Magnificent mountain ranges protrude their snow-covered peaks on high.
Burnt amber deserts, picturesque oases, palms growing lush defy the dry.
Mighty oak trees in emerald, green fields flourishing a rainbow of blooms,
Sweetest scent wafting over the lands brings a cascade of delicate perfumes.
Forlorn, I am presented with an abyss a mere stark white expanse, a page.
On which I am expected to create art to, enlighten captivate or enrage.
It is a daunting task to pit my prowess against such powerful competition.
I trust my muse is in perfection mode to tackle such a demanding rendition.
To compete with Nature and the Universe, I strive to create a masterpiece.
All the enlightened, poetic power flowing within me, my muse must release.
A plain blank canvas provides a challenge, of what to do, be it near or far,
The project at hand may be almost as difficult as lighting a candle from a star.
How endearing the innocence of life was,
When blissfully it started, with a blank canvas,
Cherishing in mother’s love and warmth,
Happy as can be, cuddled in loving arms,
Flaunting vigor of adorable, zealous charm.
Life ran into hurdles as it learned to walk,
Stumbled, yet got up, after every fall,
Giggled and babbled, learning to talk;
And from gibberish, as cogent words formed,
How flawless, pure, beginning of life was!
Soon, as it donned unique shape and form,
Colors adorned fabric of once empty canvas,
In brushstrokes of inspiration and resolve,
Enlisting hope, amidst despairs of loss,
And beams of light upon tenebrous clouds.
On ambitions it thrived, braving passionately,
Yet, encountered unbearable abyss of grief
As doubt and dismay churned in defeats
And failures sprouted within complacency,
Deviating from path of purposeful deeds.
From inner peace, as wisdom vibes chimed,
Life freed from mundane, agitation of strife,
Triumphant when dreams and reality rhymed,
Questing for tranquility in eternity of time,
Retouching feats-unfinished on canvas of life.
Green on my fingers,
pink and purple too.
Acrylic paint lingers,
Ah! There is red and blue.
When I paint I’m such a mess,
Ruin my clothes every time.
Outer beauty must confess.
Truly hidden under grime.
Magical canvas,
Interrupts in ups and downs.
Makes me so happy,
In yellows, blues and browns.
Light and lively,
My fingers and my knees
Paint is everywhere,
Because I am being me.
Written: January 05, 2023
Topic 1/ The art was most masterful on the dark canvas.
_________________________________________
A dimly lit canvas displays the best artwork,
A creature beyond earthly limits,
Harmony of shadows and strands
A superb creation that enthralled all.
Artists built lovely quilts with every line
Portraying the soul's deepest design,
Shades and light dance, pristine and refine
A mosaic of hues may sweep and entwine.
A vivid palette that whispered mysteries,
Brushstrokes convey stories and sighs
The artist's hands were graceful
Creating an undefined world,
Talent thrived on the black canvas.
Where bright dreams came alive
Imaginations and phobias swirled
Truth faded into emptiness,
It exposed the human inner abyss
Inner brightness and darkness,
We felt our greatest fears and desires,
Exploring human existence beyond fire.
white
clean lines
a beauty
and timelessness
the harmony and sacred atmosphere
atmosphere on a canvas ... you decide
reflects the time
a zircon
the light
white
26.04.2019
Sun :) A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Tetractys This Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: charles messina
Poem of the Day: 28.04.2019
2nd place in the contest
Canvas of Catastrophe
An outcast portait of society
Public opinion timidly restrained
Descriptive world of psychotic anarchy
Borderline genius, brilliantly insane
Artificial imagined ancient discovery
Sacrificed human, silenced little lamb
Red drifted mist it's as thick as thieves
King of the Dead, Queen of the Damned
Perfect people dancing in puppet strings
A choreographed movement of the masses
The artists painted canvas of catastrophe
dead people buried below green grasses
Secret genetic DNA coded re-structuring
Designer drugs for a euphoric state of mind
left to watch planet earth fight its catastrophe
Sitting in front row seats atop of cloud nine
Poem Revised @ 10/26/17
Entered into contest: "End October Premiere Contest"
Hosted by: Brian Strand
Paint your biggest dreams on a canvas
Lift it high for all to see
Lift it with strength and humility
Soon, many shall see your works
And fulfill your dreams
Filling themselves up with their own insight
Delighted by your brilliant light!
Unblemished vellum
Begs the Imagist's pardon:
Forsake not my skin -
Complete my chaste nakedness
With threads of dappled spectra
This poem is a farewell piece of advice to a group of students I have taught over the last four years. I do
hope they find the metaphor meaningful and believe that they are the "architects of their own future."
Spread before you is a canvas of hope and opportunity
Waiting to be painted with strokes of what you are and can be
Waiting to be filled with colours that define you and the life you live
Waiting to be stamped with the personality that only you can give
To the portrait of your life, by itself a work of art
A work which, on this day, with vigour you will start
Spread before you is a canvas of vision and desire
Waiting to be sketched with shades of passion and fire
Waiting to be decorated with a story and theme
Waiting to be etched with ambition that is now just a dream
Of a picture whose tone, texture and style
Would have made this work worth all the while
Spread before you is a canvas, empty, yet full of space
Waiting to be stroked with your wit, charm and grace
Waiting to be brushed with strokes daring, vivid and bold
Waiting to be painted with a story that can be told
Of a life whose essence is one of sublime beauty
Of a person who lived his life and did his duty
Of a person who lived life the way it should be
Of a complete canvas that will reflect many a memory.
Canvas in Creative Colors
Painter Paints to Persuade People;
Sends Surprises to Spectators'Sight,
and Wide-ranging Wonder World Wide;
Like Lighting the Love in one's Life,
Arts in it is an Asset from Above!
Note: I composed this poem because arts is my passion.