Long Sketch pad Poems
Long Sketch pad Poems. Below are the most popular long Sketch pad by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sketch pad poems by poem length and keyword.
I would be wearing a backpack and puppies would be hanging out of it.
Their tongues would be hanging out too, and they would be smiling.
Eight, nine, ten, eleven puppies. Because you cannot have too many.
My face would host an enormous smile.
I would proudly show the holes where teeth used to be.
To let you know that I am not vain, or socialized.
I would be carrying a sketch pad, a notebook, brushes and acrylic paints.
My clothing would be speckled and splashed with reds, greens and yellows.
My I-pads would be hidden. For I use both to cheat at word games.
I might not want people to know that.
My hair would not be brushed. I would be limping thanks to arthritis.
Dogs would be following me, guarding me, saying “this is my mama”.
I would have enough sandwiches in a bag to feed me and the pups.
Once upon a time
there was a prince
his name was Aaron
most of all
he loved to draw
he’d get his ideas
from both day and
and night dreams
as well as trips in nature
he’d look up at the sky
and see the clouds
and birds fly free
he’d notice all the
wonders of the universe
he’d scamper by the river banks
and love the waves and rocks
he’d walk through forests and
look up at the different trees
how tall they stretch and
how their leaves have shapes
inspiration circling in the air
finding the perfect spot
he would sit and sketch
to while away the hours
and so this is the way
our wonderful Prince Aaron
would rule over creation
ink wand and sketch pad in hand
AP: 3rd place 2020
In 1958 we saw the end of an era.
Mused the Curtiss Wright scholar.
he told a crowd of people
that an America that didn't
trust in the newness of creativity
would see a day were only exterior machines
would be looked at as something American enough
to be bought. Standing on the Promises of Yesteryear he
saw using the brands of yesteryear as the way to
move America forward.
He talked of reinventing the way we travel.
By moving the design forward
and never looking back.
Not using the samples of yesterday: but
creating new product under a Brand Name recogniable
enough to create family oriented appeal to modern auto's..
Bringing people together in the ailenment of futuristic design.
Creating quality Auto's and Luxury Products
were people from all ages could be proud to spend and buy.
The aquistion of Parkard motor Company:
to create from the sketch pad, a product
that would rival all companies. Building both
handcrafted timepeices
and the manufacturing of
products that would set the standard for quality
across the globe. He ended his speech
saying" Packard: where have you Been!"
I am Charlie
Je suis Charlie
I laugh at myself
I laugh at the world
I mock you with love
I love to contemplate
I love for humanity to think
There are no limits to freedom of expression
As long as we have no hate in the heart
Let us mock the universe
In gaiety and laughter
If we learn not to take ourselves too serious
Maybe just maybe
We shall feed a few poor
Maybe an act of kindness
Maybe we shall forgive and open our hearts
Maybe one shall rejoice and clap at a daily good deed given
Maybe our kindness will rank higher than our ideals
Maybe, just maybe, a cartoon can be just that
A Cartoon
We all have different views
Different tastes
Our diversity is our beauty
We can each enjoy that which we see as art
We can each ignore, that which pleases not the eye
Free choice is golden
Cold blooded killers
Have no place in our civilization
Whoever kills in the name of the most merciful
Is a fool and an infidel
If Allah was an artist
The infidels would be caricatures on a sketch pad
To be erased from all of humanity
Yes, I am Charlie
Golden dewdrop spread on gray window sill,
warm rays from the summer sunburst at will,
sprightly cheep from high flier mourning bird,
pulsating heart aroused by what I
heard
Gorgeous is an adjective for viewing,
colors on an august sketch pad brewing,
vivid blooms awash in swaying basket,
visual trinkets stored in made up casket
Brown leafs strewn that capture noonday wonder,
elevate a world from going under,
pathway to a peak or slope’s dream patch,
eternal beauty words can never match
Heaven at my doorstep every second,
fantastic bliss around me now beckoned,
mountains, valleys, trickling streams, verges,
a burgeoning green world city surges
Rainbow fountain mesmerizing stunned throng,
eye catcher sprinkled hue a bright mist prong,
gorgeous is that gift wrapped term used above,
blue skyline veil from brushstroke that I wove
Darkness, shadows, raining, storming.
I liked to pretend I perfectly crafted these bleak, tired ideas.
When I was a stupid kid.
As if no one has ever drawn a picture in pencil, so that there is no color.
As if there is no piece of art that is gray with rain in the background that anyone would care about.
I guess I just like to recycle the same, boring concepts.
Just letting my mind tumble, over and over.
Letting each iteration wear me out slightly more each time.
Drawing more lazily and sloppily with time.
So they will realize that I’m suffering, but in a cool new way.
But no.
The teacher always picks the drawings with a sun in the corner and smiling families.
Those are the kids that everyone likes.
That’s why I always carried a sketch pad.
And never tore anything out.