Easel Poems - Poems about Easel

{For 5x5x3 Poetry Contest Sponsor : Miranda Hawley Date submitted: 20/4/25} ARTIST They shone daring green avocado in dark adverse period swearing guilt ridden heart vanquished free sacral scrubbed pink and ready plumed serpent in magnificent bloom with candles God watched supreme from blue misty mountain clean knowing Artist was not insane two green irises unusually plain pierced her luminous spine divine naked Eve...

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artists brush i have painted you with the pointed brush of an artist creating every line and detail of your body before finishing the colors now I have laid aside my paint-filled brush realizing that i could never compliment your beauty with pastels on canvas i filled volumes with words intending to tell you how much you mean to me by building paragraphs on...

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All about the canvas he paints images of old steam diesels When he drew a locomotive that showed no restraint ‘Pop’ went his easel ...

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On our first day of birth, we're all created equal But soon we're unique, one of a kind people With our own little quirks Hidden desires that lurk As we paint away each day on life's big easel...

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Amber Autumn sky Colourful leaves fill the trees An artist's delight 6~June~2017...

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I shall be your muse, You shall become my easel, Artist masterpiece. (c)2016 PJ Bayliss ...

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On that first day of life, we're all created equal But soon we're unique, one-of-a-kind people With our own little quirks Hidden desires that lurk As we paint away each day on life's big easel © Jack Ellison 2015...

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A CHILD’S EASEL We bought it used at an art store And cleaned it with soap and water. Then stood it on the living room floor: A child’s easel for our daughter. You would draw on it with a marker, Or write messages we could read; The letters were always starker If there was an important need. It straddled the dog’s kennel cage Throughout seven...

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With closed eyes I lay back naked to surroundings and noise, escape. Pencil inside the soft grip a slide show of mind displays beauty, I see each mole, scar, shine and blemish as though touchable live flesh. Knowing the lids of my eyes and mind as the creator and opening my eyes will erase the...

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The Moon's disc of an orange colour an' unmoved clouds look like a fringe – there hangs a July midnight picture and twinkles on the walls the dark. Where are you, our unseen artist? While never-ending supplication you put a canvas on your easel, unheard invisible creator. You're here after day's...

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