Short Pallet Poems

Solemn earth reborn
Long gone her pallet of snow
Hush... her warmth hovers...

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Red,Gold, Green and Brown
The leaves an artist's pallet
Color drifts to earth...

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the brush of your words whispers 
on the pallet of the soul, 
and the horizon blooms...

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red robin artist
paints the yard...
spring's pallet follows   ...

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sunset rainbow glows
bordered on edge of darkness
then splashes below




June 6, 2010...

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Brushes can’t do it
My pallet knives would ruin it
Fingers enjoy it




By Robb A. Kopp...

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almost there .. 



a painters pallet 

heavenly contrast , colourful sky 

sunset or sunrise ?...

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Emotional pallet that we see
A troubled heart thinking of you
Yesterday’s longing a fiery red
Alone today, I’m simply blue…...

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A kiss in the rain will always stay
It wets the pallet for another day
Even when love is far away
It finds its place in the mind to stay

Heidi Sands 

11/20/22...

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PAINTED

man’s limitation
subtle touch of graceful brush
pure experiment

~ creator transcends pallet ~
pristine creativity

4/8/2017...

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Sultry like sweets
Like the blush on her cheeks
Another fine sip and swirl around the pallet
Let it mellow don't haste
Savour the taste
Its a golden reward from the valley...

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Standing before my easel with brush and pallet in hand the colors vocalize with intensity.


                                                                 By Robb A. Kopp...

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black grape connoisseur 
Intense flavor aroma
permeates pallet

black grape connoisseur 
Intense flavor aroma
near the Tuscan moon 

black grape connoisseur 
Intense flavor aroma
stars favorable...

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I am dreaming where someone calls 
High above the rising morning
Now shadows play while angels fall
 Cobalt blue evergreens climbing  
A poet’s pallet gone ablaze
Skies reflecting a sunset amazed...

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Dear calico cat your colors splat,
in oranges and golds and fortified blacks.
A pallet for the eyes to see your rich
fur tapestry..
The sun embraces your royalty.
How glorious is God's gift to thee....

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placards (order sheets)
opids (labels)
pens (writing instruments)

forklift
pallet 
zone (isle)

scan
lines
incentive

silk 
soy
plain

strawberry
peach
blueberry

yogurt
yogurt
yogurt...

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April is thirty

and fierce as Niagara 

she wets our pallet 

for spring fling with nature

she shows us, we are one.

*


(Written for Andrea Dietrich Tanka poem contest, April 16th deadline)...

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Star Gazing
Tanka
Written: by Tom Wright
1/17/2019

Star gazing at night
From a pallet under a tree
Sometimes brought me fright
Because it was hot inside
And we didn't have a “telly”
...

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Your body is the canvas in my frame....
My heart is the pallet ,no two colors are the same...

My hands are the brush as your curves the landscape...
I will sign it with kisses ,and the picture I will undrape.....

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 smell a soft decay
summer has gracefully died
withered rose on bush


playful autumn breeze
dying leaves spiral from tree
silhouette of hope


autumnal beauty
uplifting in its beauty
pallet of wonder


...

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Daughter
of Fall's twilight
walks on moistened garden, 
awakening sweet quietude
from earth.

Such lure
calms fresh meadows
as tinted boughs flutter
with evening's washed golden pallet,
her gift.


Contest No 360 of Brian Strand...

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On the back of my paint pallet it lied

Small, black, and petrified,

Not even the size of a penny

And it didn’t seem to mind me any,

But when I gave it a poke

It was like it had awoke,

Because it flew away from me

Forever, and forever, to be free!...

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Freshly fallen flakes bleach the land
and everything in sight. 
Suddenly, Nature seems so bland,
when whitewashed white on white.

Color change completed
Autumn has retreated;
its pallet depleted.

A blank canvas takes
freshly fallen flakes....

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sat on a pallet
with big blow hit my wallet
met with a mallet

read all of the facts
body looked like battle ax
that never attracts

walked along with Luke
disagreed and did rebuke
a crazy old kook

would be atrocious
did eat things when ferocious
also delicious...

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Like an artist preparing his canvas and pallet,
I open a file and format the page.
I set the type style and font size and spacing.
It’s an ordinary ritual beginning the process
Of writing something someone finds extraordinary,
Or not. The merit of art is never predetermined....

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