Draw Out Poems - Poems about Draw Out

a scribble here a scribble there my pen randomly drawing diagrams and spelling out words meaningless chatter idle artwork mindless spilling of thought overflow nervous tic kinetic outreach mental gymnastics creative outlet for pent-up energy AP: Honorable Mention 2025...

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A missile’s disguise is a flower magnetic, a whiff of its power Yet when its petals draw near a new odor appears ...

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The sea laps the shore, whilst the sand receeds into its cold blue temptress. Oystercatchers sqwark, their long beaks beaconing the summer solstice. Upon the clifftops, weathered walkers feel the breeze, adrift by sundown. Day 0 - End to End Trip Poetry Works. 04.30.2025...

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To draw is something … I could never do well, The joy a picture can bring The stories it can tell I could never do well Drawing freely on my own, The stories it can tell Remains for me unknown Drawing freely on my own Pencil, paint and line, Remains for me unknown A skill that is not mine Pencil, paint and line An artist...

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I draw the heart alone on a wall, I draw the heart on the night. Wanted to draw my heart on a heart, but it always kept itself out of sight, never appeared like the endless common tales under the sun, rain or the moonlight. (23.04.2025)  ...

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Draw me closer to your light and bring me farther away from this world of concrete Angels and sleuths Anoint me with your grace Lord and make me thine own I rather live in communion with you, than any place on earth. ...

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If I were a child again, I would learn to draw worlds from lines and curves of dreams, To breathe life into paper with colors intertwined in a silent and pure symphony, But as an adult, I don't even know how to draw a boundary between desires and reality, Letting the outlines fade into the fog of days...

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Sometimes you are good, but you just don't believe, You have negative thoughts, you let your talent blow away on the breeze. Do what you want, you could write even draw, It doesn't matter what you do, if your happy its never a chore. Put it out there for others to see, Some will like it and some just...

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Some of us are born to write... Others here to draw. Either way, we paint our life In living metaphor. Everybody is creative, Different and unique. We are all strong, even when We think ourselves as weak. Words for some of us can be A simple piece of cake. Others' visions are told in The pictures which they make. Together, we can write a book As well...

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Whenever I hold a pencil in my hand ,I shake. If I try to draw and pretend to imagine, I will fake. It's not that I do not like or appreciate this form of art. Just that it does not come to me from inside of my heart. We all have different abilities, likes and dislikes. Drawing does not excite...

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Blossoms line my laden descent down to the perked watering hole that plays empty theater, awaiting my creative path, a royal welcome - represented by accumed variety and presumed clarity, of intentional therapy of renewed sensable youth. Periscope complicity is channeled by heart's stereoscopicity, Dryad/Satyr Satire, no dry ads, only wet views. Season facets...

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Have you seen the chic pink Gucci tiger ad? She asked me outright. I had not, but knowing that company, it is fancy, unique and tight. We want you to create something like that, said the imposing baboon. Does she not know the only thing I know how to draw is a girly cartoon? ...

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In the attraction of Nature's-draw, will my heart survive such beauty attracting with its maw- sitting beneath impending- melting offering -cascade of Winters drift encore of grift, scenic spring undressing the thaws, trap of heart's thoughts warmly clad, hanging cliffs, gardens of Babylon- bathed on the lips to wear like an entance, of...

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My friend says his son wasn’t a bad kid. Bad kids stole money from their mom’s purse. Bad kids did hard drugs. Bad kids had unprotected sex. Bad kids always got into fights. My friend's son only smoked a little grass. He only painted a little graffiti. He only drank a little beer. He only crossed...

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it's been a while since I wrote. Sometimes I feel like I could float between the best of both worlds that I've created with nothing but my words. But to pen it all down seems hard sometimes because I wish I could have a feather quill to spray the ink all over my papers lines. And maybe use a paintbrush too so I...

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