Charcoal Poems - Poems about Charcoal

Personas have limits, boundaries veiled by the thin masquerade of pretense They whisper promises of identity, yet crack under pressure of reality's weight—poet She puts on her face while vaping smoke surrounds, Carefully paints fishtail eyes , studs, and crimson lips, satin scarfs around hug her hips Bindi adorned when with the Janes A sterling nose ring pierces...

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Light and Darkness, two opposing forces. A bold indifference to the vast array of color being their sole commonality. And yet, there is Gray. The marriage of these polar opposites amidst the spectrum of Light births a new cavalcade of shades. These Gray colors reflect the best of both worlds. This, as all things do, speaks of life. From the light Gray joys of laughter to the dark times...

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The Charcoal Man; Part Two She went as silent as a night with petrified crickets. It blinked. Then before any of us could comprehend what was going on it swiftly grabbed her by the arm and pulled. She dropped the chalk from the other hand, her tense body hitting the board. The sound was as harsh as...

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Readers note; Wrote this story concept five years ago. Have an additional fifty pages if interest spikes. The Charcoal Man; Part One Cohen & I were sitting in class whilst Mrs. Knooman picked up a withered piece of chalk we had never seen before. It had what appeared to be a sigil of a red eye on...

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winter sonata small feathered friend's happy song blue skies uplifting...

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Charcoal Sheep Watery eyed thoughts came, Zap! Pow! a short circuited brain. Inward turned burned ocular pain, too many thoughts to restrain I’m a cheap sheep making my mistakes again. Smell my seared wool going down the drain. Ba ba ba, sorta blackish, wishing I was right as rain. Worlds accessed by my fingertips help to quicken this sheepish heartbeat. I...

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I run my hand through my coal colored hair. I blink the tears out of my dirty eyes. I pick the skin on my caramel arms. I fight the thoughts in my weighed brain. I freeze as i hear the poisoned yells. I run, as it's too late to reason. I'm chased by the monsters and their sharp teeth and i ignore...

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teribium,Curium,actinium sheres of charcoal. they seek such to make generated dissisha. samples the need for energy. the need to produce the world wishes a freedom from what currently exist. Des-alpha motaium....

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2nd Elergy For Auntie Betty Akinyi Oyugi. Life is scattered. By Juno Byron(Junior). Life is a balloon Inflated full A'n given to a baboon Wherefore? though white as wool Life is a pot Resting on her head With water it got Cool cold as the dead Life is a charcoal Collected in a heap higher Statued to make a roll Waiting for th' great fire Life is a nestling Inside a...

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Draw the embers into the wood Stroke it like it's a three-legged stool Blacken the charcoal of a dying fire Fasten it to a sun swelling brighter The object is to lick the smoking flame Soberly thoughtful to call out His name Should a flash shine brilliantly With a radiant outburst of joy hotly All about warming the frigid darkness The ocean in which...

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Night assaults in charcoal smudges, repeatedly cloaking the horizon in darkness. Hollow ruins coat the empty space in agony as loneliness clings to every surface, breathless in the brewing alchemy shift. The barren and jagged mountains, though cold and bitter in shadow, are abruptly caressed by a balmy breeze exhaling secret incantations into the dampened surroundings. Beneath the heavy silence of night, blankets of celestial...

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A lone black crow sits on a limb of a tree amongst a crowd of trees that surround the townhouses. The trees' silhouettes are drawn on the brick; on the shingled roofs; by the Sun this Late January. The dark shape of the crow is starker than the trees' cast of the night color; it is spectre-like, within the arms of the...

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Vertical lines drawn freehand Even pressure is at his command Continues top to bottom straight As each line appears he contemplates Being part of the whole drawing being made It records his latest escapade In charcoal each line has meaning Of that day of memory so full of feeling. © Paul Warren Poetry...

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What has the world comes to be? Hatred has taken the mantle of power, Without mercy or calmness, And 360° stratification. What has the black done? Yesterday, harassment, Today, killing and hatred, And tomorrow, slavery i guess. Is it a sin to be black? Blacks with enormous fortune, That glows like diamonds. We are also human. They are whites, we are blacks. Ours skin is the difference. Is egalitarianism...

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charcoal grey clouds greet me this morning adding to my somber mood, letting weather be my gauge controlling my psyche who is submissive...

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