Short Dabbed Poems

A Neanderthal
with intent on graffiti
dabbed a red nose daub
on stone face of granite stone
prints for nosy sleuth fiends...

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thoughts

become a

tapestry of words

when well spoken

or dabbed

in staccato strokes

like the oil brush

of an artist

on canvas

crave the gentle

caress of words

like the intimate

touch of woman...

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I'm an artist
of life within
a timeless
adventure. Every
thought and
emotion is dabbed
onto my palette
for my mind 
to mix infinite
colors of
bold dreams
to transparent 
memories. My life
is a canvas
that only
I can paint the 
masterpiece....

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I had some extra green paint
Oh what can I do to make her faint
So a dabbed a bit down below
When in the room she came for a blow
I yelled 
Green-eyed monster is waiting to show


She fainted

Notes:
ok ok I saw so many poems with this topic, I said what the hell, why not!...

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Mosses dabbed gray

                                       Silver moon above shines blind

                                             Owl hoots distant rats
        
                                         Drag  glum silence of blood

                                          A tale of love not well told...

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He skipped up the streets
   of his childhood days
No vehicle honked
   nor sluggish dog lay 

Picket fences swung open
   no locks on their gates
Deserted shops covered
   their wares with their Fates

He dabbed at his cheek
   a pool of tears forming there
As the Breezes fell silent
   and the Sun did not care...

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I took a tiny touch of red
  Then I dabbed a bit of blue.
  Voila! I had purple
  Now I wondered what to do.

  The empty piece of canvas
  Was waiting for a scene.
  I shall start to build a forest
  With shades of deepest green.

  Ooops! I erred and made a splat.
  It's a mark I can't take back.
  I've changed my mind completely
  This paintings now abstract....

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Swirls of pink, caress purple hues
Who's brush strokes then did beauty choose.

What hand, what artist filled the sky
To set before admiring eyes.

Who dabbed the colour on tinted cloud,
No mortal has such skill endowed.

In all her glory, for all to see
Nature, donned her finery.








Entry for Sunrise and sunset - Poetry Contest 
Sponsored by Silent One 
15/2/18. Placed 2nd....

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Severity of the nails anchored through Christ’s palms.
Oil dabbed on mine - revelation of His gentleness.
Stinging tears that swelled a Savior’s face.
Mine — bright-eyed peaceful countenance.

My knees drop like the heavy cross into its plot.
The bruise to my knees inconsequential.
The thankful beating of my heart —
praising the King of kings perpetually.

6/2/2019...

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A shade of clear caresses red
dabbed upon each aching edge
a sweetened birch lies ever near
await mere embers to appear

In holy rest her amber hue
a roseate glow paints such a view
gentle strokes do pass and glide
pure color beats and breathes inside

With light and shade a vision lives
in moves and shapes a feeling gives
a pensive air floats through each brush
as passion seeks her loving touch...

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As a painter
Brushes and strokes
Fortunes on the canvass
Every Dab of paint a scene

The Poet's brush are words
Dabbed on the canvass of the mind
Painting pictures with words
The audience creates pictures from
 the Poets  conjectures

A painting is never finished
The painter is never done 
So also is a poet, it is never done
And never finished with a piece
It's only done for the moment
When they stop....

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Three shots of whisky, he was in a hurry;
sooner than expected the crowded bar took off,
rocketing blindly into a dark planet.

Outside, the evening was smeared with red sky,
a bleeding light hung like a punctured lung.

Back home
he dabbed his damp eyes, waiting,
his mind wandering thoughtless
inside a humming keyboard.

After a long inert silence
he took a 'cold one' out of the fridge -
flipped himself off....

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I posted in regards to our status,
but felt relaxed I'm on this cloud like i dabbed it.
Carried away for i am down to earth.
Fallen angels on my ankles
discombobulated birds. 
At first we kept together like compound words. 
Now we curse with out magic 
it attracts if it hurts. 
Pleasure and pain on turn tables 
watch as tables will turn. 
Subliminal message could of obviously heard.
If you don't want to look back then play it reverse....

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cotton candy swirls
dabbed onto an azure sky. . . 
sweet brushstrokes of dawn

through green velvet fields
a country lane meanders. . .
dew paints the lilacs

where the dirt lane ends
leafy trees shade a cottage. . . 
fawns serenely pose


For Gail Doyle's A Scenery Of Your Choice As An Artist Poetry Contest
Used now for 'EARLY SEPTEMBER PREMIERE CONTEST any form,any theme,max of 25 lines' Poetry Contest of Brian Strand...

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A stroll that revealed an undiscovered spot


A playful brant swam on the pollen-dabbed lake...
oh, she was greeted by a thousands blossoms!


A dipper perched on a dog-wood tree so dazzling and aromatic,
was undecided to stay or fly alone as if all his companions were gone...
he a white head and gray wings feeling a bit too so romantic,
seeking through green branches a lonely warbler hidden in a cool place
to  of being  in a athmosphere so idylic...

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For starters I'll order the tripe
Wrapped in dark blue plums, just ripe
Painted with a bright red-white stripe
Dabbed with green spots from icing-bag pipe

Next, I'll have the fish, grilled just right
Flambéed with whiskey set alight
On a bed of cockles, shut up tight
Wrapped in seaweed. What a sight!

For sweets I'd like the chocolate mousse
With eggs, cream and bitter lime juice
All gooey and creamy, sure to seduce
My cravings for sugar and a cup of Seuss...

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He raced confidently forward.
The adults seemed indifferent.
I had tripped and the hard fall 
knocked me unconscious.

He turned me over and grabbed 
the belt around my waist.
With man-strength he lifted me, 
forcing air into my lungs.

I stood, wiping dirt from my face 
and dusting off my clothing. 
I dabbed a few bleeding scratches
And shoved my hair behind my ears.

The adults went about the chores 
they’d been performing.

I was seven. He was twelve.
My hero. My brother....

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