Masterpieces Poems - Poems about Masterpieces

My average means I don’t have to take final exams. So my bachelor's degree is a finished product. I cranked it out, all that’s left now is the walk (May 18th). Let’s call it my nearly forgotten masterpiece. My schedule says that I start a 1-year ‘master of public health’ degree in 38 days. It was my mom’s idea. She...

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mozart piano allegro's maestroso - divine&sublime&moody...

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He played the piano the way he did everything – incredibly well. He’s a maestro, his mother told everyone who stopped by. They did not doubt it, he was busy too, always composing. Writing screenplays, creating operas and musicals. When will he publish? Some of the noisier ones asked his mother. That’s not important, she told them. That he is...

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poetry excellent, delightful reading, publishing, editing pantoum, diamante, sonnet, verse writing, posting, delivering long, short essay art beautiful, amazing drawing, painting, sketching origami, sculpture, portrait, mural sewing, carving, waving creative, unique craft music fast, slow singing, playing, humming hip-hop, country, orchestra, symphony conducting, interpreting, dancing sad, happy drama Jan. 16,2023 9.10pm...

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Edit, abort; poem cut short. ———— A For-Get-Me-Not, a rhymed couplet with 4 syllable lines Eph 2:10 - For we are God's workmanship (poema)......

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I Some words remain prophetic through time Giving and yielding fruit Like Jeremiah (29:11); Ezekiel on my heart Of wickedness that will shock even me Unless someone heals My heart of stone Isaiah knew too I am fearfully, wonderfully made Like tigers or wolverines & the Tasmanian Devil II When God created all & more His masterpieces came effortlessly He did not sweat it out,...

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Once a poet is done psychically with his or her craft With the vernacular of his or her masterpieces It’s the role of the readers to add mentally missing pieces Parts, ideas, images, a few words and a sophisticated shaft To mechanize, modernize or upgrade the messages A poem is, of course, a piece of writing in process It’s a bubbling...

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They're masterpieces woven from miracle and stardust... a couple of decades to raise them up just to send 'm down goblins' road... a locket of prayers-their silky shields facing an iron fanged society brimming with rabid muzzled souls. You were once trapped in those same fiery holes that they're blindly approaching.. and half way down the devil's throat you've tossed them a God gilded...

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Like it or not, God rules us all! Never, not once taking a break! We, instead, choose to see lies and the world fall. Thanks to Eden's snake? We can...

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Written by Gail DeBole on March 11, 2020 - Putting together a scrapbook of your child’s best moments - Creating an heirloom bedspread out of old T-shirts for your child - Framing a child’s stick-figure picture like it is the Mona Lisa - Creating a new dessert, entre, or snack for the family - Working on a relationship that...

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Anger inspires the heart To create the words of the world Which is then a burden Which is then a curse And then so is threatened And then so is kept Far from those who will be converted From those easily changed Far from eyes who will tell the mind That'll then create the text of the broken...

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Have you ever marveled at the maestros’ pieces? Have you? Composers – who capture with music Moods which can move us… Writers – who work with words which Amaze and absorb us… Craftsmen – who produce with patience Art which astounds us… Painters – who create on canvas and sketch with skill Landscapes and portraits and pictures to ponder What genius, what greatness, what treasure...

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Torturing me with touches I feel the sting of hardened and lasting lust Touches not of mortal fingers, But Halloween-haloed strings composed by musicians of mystery Pressing upon my back--yes! A searing, yet melodi-errotic strike All upon me, yet far from me... Leave me not in the judgement of my own scrambling feelings Rest not away as I hold my hands out...

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In his eyes I see tomorrow he is the holder of all my time like beautiful stained glass holding rainbow colored sand His touch is healing and divine like the warmest sun in summer time his words are like seashells As they call out to lovers in the ocean drifting along the tide to sandy beaches he has found me anchored to him holding...

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Drifting beyond the lightest cloud. Pastel clowns in postmortem rain parade. Cascading in the cold moon dust to shed this latest mascaraed. Wounded memories hang loosely from the mind. Autumn berries quivering three quarters past their prime. When did "mediocre" pock the virgin tree. When untruth told us, painting by numbers... was our first gilded masterpiece? Then entered our very first critique. When honesty stated...

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