Long Paint Poems
Long Paint Poems. Below are the most popular long Paint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paint poems by poem length and keyword.
SUNRISE and SUNSET
Sunrise paints a new day
The skies are a golden reel
The paint brush lies with the creator
..He is the All-wise Master Artist
Each dawn.a blushing surprise
. ..
Sun sets, spreads, displays
spectacular rays,
twilight to welcome
Fantastic view
drastic dispersion in queue
of rays in air at random.
Sun rays reflected
refracted and diffracted,
paste colors on sky album.
Sun does not leave sky.
From any place, verify.
At dawn, sure to come.
11 /15 /21
First Place
Two Poems entwined
First Part : "Dawn Artist" by Jo Daniel dt 11/05 /21
/
Second Part: " Sun sets but sure to rise " by me dt 03 /27 /17
'Do it (Duets') Contest by James Edward Lee Sr .
Trace me like the girl in my mind. The one who is perfect, never a strand of hair out of line. She is so smiley and bubbly without even trying and attracts people to her like a friendly magnet, if I said I didn’t want to be her I’d be lying. The girl who is desired by all with no enemies just waiting for her to trip and fall. Trace me like the girl in my dreams. Who always seems to keep calm like the sea. She is so perfect it makes my skin crawl with jealousy, yet somehow she is still everything I want to be. Work miracles or something please because I can no longer sleep. I am forever waiting for this perfect version of me that I will soon cease to believe. Trace me as you see me. I heard it’s pretty great. Not even a fraction of the pain I feel when I look in the mirror at the fake me with her mask of strange desires. It pains me to think of the hate I feel for my own reflection. So matter of fact don’t trace me… just paint. Paint me like the image of perfection. I am well aware I don't embody it. But, please… just help me gain a sense of love for me. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but when I am given the opportunity to find a better mindset, I’m often the first to hit snooze. It’s not that I don’t want to be better. Surely I do. I just can’t seem to get myself out of the hole I have dug to bury my shattered soul. I truly do want to be better, but I can’t seem to fix was has already broken inside of me. I have tried to glue the pieces back together, yet I seem to be missing a few pieces. The pieces that left with the reason for their detachment from my shattered sense of self. I pray to whatever god is out there for help, but it seems they're all out on call. I bawl myself to sleep to hide what creeps up in the dead of night. No longer will I hide from the loneliness inside. I will try to be better. Try to find the time. I will try to be the twisted reality everyone thinks I am living or die.
6/8/17
A world full of different colors and shapes
As well as apes
Locations that do or don't sell crepes
Vines with or without grapes
Houses with dark or light drapes
That do or don't have cassettes and video tapes
Near and far from any capes
Surfaces continually getting more scrapes
Each having their own plate
A smile on everyone's face
While one said grace
By a fireplace
Flower vase
And curtains made of lace
Soon everyone took a taste
Then said it was a great
Especially the steak
Later on, all had dessert, which was home-made cake
It's all good if you can't relate
To anything I state
Or paint
A life that is quaint
Currently got no complaints
I ain't
No saint
A lot of things took restraint
Didn't want to let it go to waste
Couldn't always play it safe
Wasn't always worth the risk, and what I happened to make
I can't afford to take a break
Or flake and be late
That'd be more than a mistake
People being honest or fake and like a snake
There's always going to be love and hate
I do more than educate
But hold up wait
Let's get one thing straight
Drake
You were on Degrassi, and I'll put you into your place
See through, not opaque
Soft as a pancake
Grab, pull and throw you out your wraith
I don't care how much your being paid
You can catch a fade
I round a bend in the trail ...
And gasp, literally ...
The scene before me takes my breath away
And I stop, transfixed by the sheer breadth of the panorama
The shimmering span of Crater Lake ...
Clear, crystalline ...
Pure as the tears of Heaven
Translucent fathoms of water, waiting ...
Glassy, tranquil, yet the depths shroud an inky secret
A brumal dragon, ages old, slumbers in the blackened abyss
Its fiery, flaming breath is calm, but its breast still slowly rises and falls
The wings of thunder that once battered the air to ruin
Are tucked close and quiet, but they tremble yet
The snorting nostrils that choked the sky, and earth-tearing claws
Are still and cold, but they shiver with an energy, relentless
The molten rock that is its lifeblood, ever flows deep in its bowels
Sleeping, dreaming, biding its time and virility
Above, nature attends to its own
The remnants of Mount Mazama paint the reach
Crimped in white and green, the edges of snow-dusted foliage
Creatures dance, unknowing, upon the beast's back
Life goes on-and-on, in all its guises
Struggle, tragedy, the feral judgements of existence and mortality
Predator and prey, birth and growth, changing seasons
The ceaseless spin of survival, continues on ...
This exquisite glade and the providence that surrounds me
Thrums with vitality, oblivious to the danger and heat stirring earthward
Bloating in the gut of the burning basilisk ... far, far below
Waiting for when the time is right ...
And it once again ... scorches the sky.
Written and submitted on January 15, 2019
For the "Sleeping Volcano" Poetry Contest
Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
Words can paint a picture, meant only for the ears to view
As thoughts can spark the actions for the will of the body to do
The ground is full of footsteps of the path from roads taken
As the sun rising in the distance reveals that the dawn has awakened
When perspective sits atop the world for the showing,
The goodness of the moment passes without the mind ever knowing
But when the brilliance of the moment ceases and the sweetness has become rotten
The darkness grabs the mind's attention when good thoughts have been forgotten
When disparity assumes perspective, it is thought that all light has ended
But when perspective provides the spark the loss of emptiness can be mended
Donation of the self is the act of the most valuable giving
As quality exceeds survival in moments of better living
One cannot receive that which one does not bestow
For knowledge is meant to be used it is not enough to simply know
But when attention is paid, the revenue of the mind
Attention is given in return for the solutions the mind quests to find
Like the gift receiver that appreciates with thee greatest gratitude
The universe rewards the soul with the greatest attitude
Scored, stained, painted, washing, squeezing.
Profound fingers duly pleasing.
A perfect sign is not one’s goal.
Crafting a masterpiece of soul.
Basic colors, silver and gold,
Sprinkles that touch wet paint, behold.
Cathartic stressing’s console.
Crafting a masterpiece of soul.
A maverick or dependent.
Assured it will be resplendent.
To each his own creed of control.
Crafting a masterpiece of soul.
The group imparts a tenderness,
Rubbing elbows of cleverness;
And pondering time in fishbowl.
Crafting a masterpiece of soul.
All eyes on the “perfect” signage.
Does such have a great advantage?
Peculiar go down rabbit hole.
Crafting a masterpiece of soul.
Still, the simplicity of cream;
And chocolate Easter bunny’s dream,
Won’t be held in one’s cubby hole.
Crafting a masterpiece of soul.
Scored, stained, painted, washing, squeezing.
Profound fingers duly pleasing.
A perfect sign is not one’s goal.
Crafting a masterpiece of soul.
My childhood was full of trauma
A dark place, where I had to find my own light
Two people were like angels to me, because everyone else weren’t safe
I started writing as a child and it help me then, along with prayer
The transition happened as I grew older
I started to turn all the bad things into good things
Mainly through creativity that helps me survive memories, not forgotten
So, I write, play music, paint and pursue my purpose
I do all that I can to bring positive things to this world
I take my pain and use my understanding of it to help others
I take my time to bring bright things to anyone that I can
This is my way of conquering the brutal, bad things,
That would otherwise haunt me deeply into oblivion
I take my anger to speak truth, to overcome silencing they did
Most of all, I choose to be my true self as best I can
I refuse to be any way that they would have wanted me to be
I live authentically, as I try to live and appreciate every moment
I am grateful for everything that I have, every single day
I give myself what they couldn’t give, seeing life in ways they don’t
Heidi Sands
11/16/20
Placed 2nd in the It’s a part of me – life and perceptions and philosophies contest
He captured her charm
Serenity and intelligence image
Frequent glances
From the canvas then back to her face
Asking her not to smile
Was like asking her not to breathe.
Patience isn’t her best trait
^
What’s in a smile? Beauty
And everything! Apparently
Such a shame it wasn’t image of a young woman
In her prim,
The one whom
Everyone got to know and love
^
Her strong features, her openness,
Transcend the warm of a morning rose bulb,
Blooming openly in the spring,
^
He paint the colors of an autumn theme
Instead of a warm spring;
The shape of her face,
The curve of the lips
Strong feature,
Yet, so inadequate
To be future queen
Paint me on your canvas of rosy dawn,
dewy scarlet daisy blooms in soft hues,
your cherry-dipped fingers dwelling upon,
crimson cool honey dripping to heart's muse.
Drench my soul in your ethereal touch,
Inhaling your musk with lazy noon mush,
dancing to whispers of orchards you clutch,
tendrils in vineyard of my cocooned blush.
Sing me a rhapsody of clouds in white,
lilac summer holding onto spring breeze,
my hair tickle your glances at twilight,
velvet breaths fuse in woods with rustling trees.
Silver crescents blaze moonlit pearls my love,
lulled in silks of tranquil stars from above.
May 29, 2020
Summers heat sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~Winner: 2nd Place
BRIAN'S SELECT 2,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~Winner: 2nd Place
The main road lies dormant, its houses seemingly asleep. But at 6 a.m., life bursts forth in a flurry of activity. The heavy traffic that streams towards Jack in the Box Gully is relentless, a so-called alternative route. No rest for the weary, as the relentless tempo of modern life takes its toll.
Balance seems irrelevant, and human feelings are an afterthought. Desires dictate actions, indifferent to the residential nature of the area. The fact that children under ten live in these houses is brushed aside. The sheer volume of vehicles, the multitude of auto loans, and the presence of underage drivers paint a picture of a society disconnected from reality. Public transportation is deemed unfit for their island, relegated to third-world countries in their minds.
Are these the Gen Z rebels once more disrupting norms, or simply indulging in youthful mischief? One day, we may have to take to the skies like birds, as the ground becomes increasingly perilous. The Ministry of Transportation's generational stance—whether a Gen Z, a Millennial, or a Baby Boomer—seems irrelevant as all grapple with the impact of modern conveniences on the environment.
The choices of today inch us closer to harm. The cacophony of life is set into motion by the decisions of fools, and the cost may be our very planet. As the sun rises, the moon still holds its place in the sky, a symbol of hope for those who still believe in miracles. For the people of my country, let us hold onto this hope.