Veranda Bombs
Read as Heading per Naval incident
"Now This!"
"Now This!"
As paragraph goes out of style
"Sue Anne the stars won't gather."
Veranda pan up too you
"Waking to a World in Peril?"
"Hopefully big things to come in our report"
Tell 'em what? Country
Special effects guys live on the trolley.
Tatas? Tatas.News?Tons.Coffee? Sugar? Happening!
Kendall as Kevin
In a West End Town Expose
I get out my acrylic paints and begin choosing colors I like
Draw out a cartoon cat wearing a tam riding a bike
after the paint dries, I add glitter glue so it has some sass
If anyone wants me to leave my art studio, I take a quick pass.
Painting and cartooning are hobbies that keep me fresh and happy.
I love them so much, I fear my words might seem convoluted and sappy.
relaxed I am while painting pictures; it makes the hours whittle away.
I usually paint on six to sixteen canvases at a time, each and every day.
I'm unsure of an image popping up in my head
A dot locates alongside a crowd, with a space reserve
Until now, of its decay from the fresh dark to pale light
Which has been started the image once begun to alive
It's been never so sure of that the disparity remained
As a balanced attraction and repulsion needed in-between
It's made affluent independence when the heart flies
Also, so much loneliness if solitude surpassed the edge
I now disclose this picture to let it to be identified
How is it genuine or illusionary generated in rubbish time
conjuring monet's
enchanted gardens
~ midday reverie
AO: 2nd place 2025
What shades of colours do we paint
while walking on this earth?
Do we leave behind a masterpiece?
or a squiggle with no worth?
Will the colours that we choose
look vibrant, - do they shout?
Or are they like dull grey lead lines
so easily rubbed out.
Are all the brush strokes that you paint
precise, done with finesse?
Or are they like thick crayon scrawled
on paper in a mess?
And will you hang upon a wall
admired by the best?
Or stay unseen and never shown
Remain an unfinished sketch?
The colours that you choose in life
portray your inner self.
So, are you rich, red, powerful paint
or a shade left on the shelf?
You could be bright and beautiful
in orange, yellow, green.
Or does your glossy outer fade
and quickly lose its sheen.?
Are you a calm and turquoise- blue
just like a tranquil sea.
Or do you live with black or grey?
that’s all you’ll ever be.
The colours in my life are prime
though that can be changed.
to any shade I choose to be
if mixed or rearranged.
Seek out the artist in your life
ensure he paints you true.
Be one to stand out in a crowd
there’s only one of you.
While wending my way one sunny day
in no particular direction
on stopping for reflection
I took a look at flowers by the rustic fence
beside a gnarled old tree
and was amused to see
beautiful colours and textures
which it seemed to me could only be
a painting picturesque
packed with pinks and reds yellows too
while beyond there lay
a field of green beneath a sky of blue
an avid artist if not gardener
it must have been
to have created
such as the sight I had seen
tho' my words won't describe
don't do justice to the sight I saw
it is etched in my memory
and will remain so evermore
Art class:
where mistakes
become discoveries,
where mess
means
learning,
where every child
is
Picasso
and
Einstein
rolled into one
paint-stained
possibility.
ART!
He painted my death,
With such dedication I've never seen before.
Every stroke of his brush, on that paper, marking out each curve, twist, and turn my body made
As I writhed in pain.
Premeditated murder, or a death masquerading as suicide, or perhaps just an unlucky soul.
My hands on my throat as I choked to death,
He didn't need to add a drop to my tea to pronounce me dead.
Because every time I brushed his gift to me,
I was gasping and blushing at how beautifully he depicted my death,
And swore that it was breathtaking.
It was really breathtaking!
My body was found lying on the green grass,
Sprawled in a weirdly shaped position, just as he had predicted.
I gave him his last gift:
A live picture of me modeling his artwork, in afterlife.
Who would know that arsenic was the green-dye monster,
But was also made into a painting to die for.
Emer
I happen to take Art classes in oils. My teacher directed me to Van Gogh's Flores:
I am not sure what it's called. But I am very impressed with it's colors of yellow, maze and the swirls of a blue vase. It appears that the painting is all swirls. I can't imagine how it was done. But it presents itself as a plain and effortless painting.
As this is all new to me as a new Artist of oil painting, this will be a great challenge. Anything "Blue" is my favorite color.
The painting has brown in its background. I believe judging from the picture it was one of his best masterpieces.
I usually color with pencils, and have very little knowledge in coloring in oils. Again this will be challenging. However, I am going to love it.
One might ask what does this have to do with USPS Stamps? However, I believe the Post Office did select stamps from various Artists and a few were from Van Gogh's Flores: "The Sun Flower" and a picture of Van Gogh himself.
in the form of the readymade, now occupies a place in the void, you look at the size of this dewdrop & remember Andy Warhol, who was the first to begin this session in Tate Britain
Blank blue sky awaits
for the night to dust
stars across its face.
The canvas is so much like a seashore
Where hands comb for a body to the storm
Sometimes a continental piece will shift
These wounds under the palette —
Give her light while looking through the bars
From some more than thousand marks
The brush of close kissing hair by
The stroke of your blue in brown eyes
Stay familiar this very last year
With painted on tears —
The paints dispensed in the water pass
God, forgive the glass.
A tide that leaves colors to our flashback's wind —
My true colors are yours to see within
Painting a picture,
Without any scripture,
Soon to be a permanent fixture.
A mixture of all types of things,
I'm excited to see what it brings.
Feel the colors sing,
Timelines condensing,
Closing,
Superimposing,
Shadows showing,
Dimensions are growing,
Bestowing stroke after stroke.
Adding in a little joke,
You're never broke,
Take a little toke,
Poke the bear,
Stay aware,
Prepare for a new medium.
As life hands you them,
Premium products of perfection,
Placing them for your selection,
As you choose each direction,
Painting a reflection of life's projection.
when i was a kid i used to draw a blue line near the top of the paper
that was supposed to be the sky
it started off being thicker in some places than in others
but as the time passed i started to add clouds
and draw inside the lines
the older i got,
the more realistic the sky became
then i started adding rainbows when i heard about heaven
i wanted to make it pretty and happy for all those who have died
specially those who died alone
and those who died without love
i haven’t drawn the sky in a while
i no longer can,
not now that i have people who i’ve lost
i wouldn’t know how to make it pretty enough
—painting the sky
hiku van Gogh 2
borinage b r e a t h e s on
pot
a
t
O
eat
Ers
LIVE
here
paint
ed
~ E T E R N A L ~
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