Paint Poems - Poems about Paint

Awakened and degenerated, I feel I am clashing somewhere The clouds appear and then depart, just another face amongst billions Millions of colors of the rainbow at one point I thought I was rare Surprise, it is another birthday, traveling through the flow of time Stop this ride, we...

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I pried with a screw-driver driven into a lid sealed with age, and rust, to crack open a callous retribution, set aside, tombed over. I was curious to learn how much remained and in what condition. Up came the lid with a gurgle, fizz, hiss, expelled with age smell. The paint on top, had dried, to a skin, a...

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Red Paint Long before my time, a group painted in red lived on the land. They lived with the buffalo and made weapons by hand. They used arrowheads at the end of their spears. Their homes were in tea peas planted beside the river. They danced at night around the fire. They were com and...

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“Paint me like one of your french boys.”, he said. I told him I didn’t paint. I would love to paint, the problem is I feel as though color just ruins my art. I told him this. I wish he would’ve said, “Oh darling if you won’t paint me, Then I can paint you, I know so many colors that...

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The past has always been a foreign country, step ten decades into the future and you will be an alien. Time takes no prisoners, the past wipes out legions of beings, their humanity is a thin cloth whipped by relentless winds. This country of ours is a body with endless names, generations that we make and remake with foreign hands and minds, even yesterday is a stranger...

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"Paint with paint or paint with words." By Poet As a small child I loved to paint, finger paints brought my plain paper to life. As a teen my painting moved on, on to painting by numbers. In our first house I painted the many walls. Paints come in many pretty colors, some very bright like the sunlight. Paints can come in pretty...

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"When I know your soul, I will paint your eyes*" ~ til then you wear a disguise * Amedeo Modigliani ~ Italian painter and sculptor ...

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Henry was not a good painter at all Until he channeled his Grandmother Gall She made him dress in an imaginative way Wearing her clothes and a hairbow gray Henry’s paintings were suddenly very good He began wearing Grandma’s sweatshirt and hood So much better! His spirit guide said, guiding his hand. He painted great but was the laugh of the land. For...

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The crowd roars loud, the lights all gleam He plays the fool inside their dream A painted smile, a flawless part But no one sees his breaking heart He makes them laugh, he draws the cheers But hides a flood of quiet tears A silent weight no one can guess Behind the jokes, the loneliness Each night he wears the same disguise A thousand...

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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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They often ask me why I don’t wear festive clothes, why I don’t paint my face, Don’t you also like to shine in the light of a clear morning? Oh, if only I could tell them that every act of beautification feels like just a veil over a wound, As if I were hanging curtains over broken windows,...

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{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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I painted my bedroom wall blue. Then darker blue. Then also blue-gray. There is more out there. They promised. I painted on a canvas. There might be nothing out there. But I try to paint the sunset and sky. I wonder if those things are still real. I painted the deck. I moved all those chairs out of the...

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New walls, inviting colors crisp and… Clean, washed bright, beautiful and… Fresh, renewed by cheery colors, so… Neat, energetic like the unsullied, and… Different, unmarked by the past, unsoiled and … Detailed by soft brush filled with paint’s heavy scent… Sparkling, like the life reborn, new and changed, converted by the primer – His light never fades out… His brush mends the heart restores the soul with faith and transforms the...

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I breathe, exercise, rest, jump and eat to paint Loud neon canvases, nothing dull or quaint Acrylic reds, greens, blues and silvers are on my finger tips In my hair, on my wrists, under my arms and on my lips Globs of orange were on my thighs and legs today How they got there artist me refuses to say...

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