Short Studio Poems
Short Studio Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Studio by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Studio by length and keyword.
Marco Rubio
would show best perhaps in a Tussaud's studio
stiff waxen smile
the Cuban marionette attempting to beguile.
In a studio, a song so unique,
Was played at its pick.
It held scenes untold,
And documentaries untold,
And stories that only a few could pick.
Let’s go here, there, everywhere
No thank you, I say. I have found my happy place.
In my art studio, in front of my computer,
surrounded by words and paints.
only You can understand
the heat of mirrors
the brightness of cameras
the resistance of perfumes
the pain of existence
before the cold shower
in the studio of destiny
ideas running through my head
sunlit studio exploding with possibilities
lively paints of every colour
let’s put those paintbrushes to the test
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
My art studio is calling me
pretty paints are yelling my name
muse is tugging on my heart
let us go paint today!
one big thing stops me
If I go out
I will have
to get
dressed
His studio explodes with possibilities
Creativity is a cauldron of bubbling energy
~ Bold pantheon of original expression
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
photograph is a dead being
placed on death bed of paper
by every business murderer
using camera as the sword
operating in studio abattoir
on people who choose to die
to see themselves dead alive
No noise
No fear
No happiness
Void consumes me
Tears fall
Lonesome crawl
To no one
An empty chair
A quiet home
Place setting for one
A single bed
A studio
Singular interpretations of life
music what they play
music has ;lot to say
in the studio they stay
theyer odd on the jod
with a mixs kit
they do this
for love music there theme
and its mean get down mean
its a
DISKS JOCKEY DREAMS
I had not visited my art studio in a fortnight or more
There was a large box I had to push away from the door.
The paints were excited! I could feel their emotions sway.
They began to explode onto a canvas; yelling hip! hip! Hooray!
my happy place is my art studio
filled with paints, glitter, canvases, brushes
where I create whimsical cartoon paintings
using my favorite fluorescent paints
orange, green, blue, red, pink, violet
a place I use as a haven and escape
CHRISTINA ROSSETTI 'In an Artist Studio'
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/ /|
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I began to clear my studio today
And water my flowers and feed my birds
I would write some poetry, but in every way
I am an outside girl who is out of words
I now have to run and chant and laugh and play
Sitting at a computer is for other nerds
Polly Pure Paint was a painter cat with rainbow eyes.
She loved acrylics and watercolors, she had so many supplies.
Her studio was full of glitter paints and copper cogs and wheels too.
She had a steampunk side, that embodied her art through and through.
Framed art
On the wall
I see a mistake
Take it down and redo it
Glad I am a painter
Feel sorry for non-painters today
Fixing art is no biggie for me.
Wouldn’t she look better in a red dress?
I take the next piece of art down
And run with it to my studio
an...a...log...an...a...log...
analog...analog...cofcof...
recorded as being there...
digital is a studio creation...
not original as basic analog...
the sound is not the same...
analog's real...digital's naught...
but structured to some psychological norm...
Hiding from the heat
I decide to paint
But my studio is across the driveway
Several steps past a brutally hot driveway
Which will hurt Sophie’s paws
Because she will follow me
So here I sit
Lamenting the waste of a day
Wishing the dog was lighter to carry
Soft glimmer like an undertow;
Glimpse the multifaceted glow
painting nature's art studio:
Rainbow shadow, rainbow shadow;
Chill don't change that radio dial:
Fall hard into something gentle,
take a break for a little while;
Nap weather style, nap weather style.
The sun bursts through my window
flooding my world my universe.
I'm energized to start my day.
My mind on overdrive
overflows with creativity,
ideas cascade i wish i could keep up
Open those floodgates,
let’s see what happens ~
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Sitting among my paints and glitter
reaching for a blank canvas
I smile at true me.
An artist, dream-maker, cartoonist, I
separate from regular snore bore life
Becoming more real than ever
when I get to my studio.
I reach for my paint brush,
glorying in my bliss
Van Gogh Thoreau Wadsworth Coleridge Poe Miro
Their words and art surrounded her mind in living colors
She worked her design into a vibrant office and studio
Others said they could never have done it; she wondered why
Not understanding that everyone does not have a Gemini mind
as I walked out, a snake slithered in
dark with a white stripe and quite thin
neither of my dogs noticed this
snake was silent, I heard no hiss
I gave an involuntary scream
this was reality, no kind of dream
today I am avoiding my studio
where that snake slithered oh so low
each artist is working in their own world
they share a studio, but none are aware of others
they are in a self-involved warp of coziness
one with their canvas, paints calling to them
each one in a bubble of self-indulgence,
distracted by nothing, comfortable in their cocoon of art
I had a reason to clean some spaces this week
my art studio and two bathrooms
a guest was coming,
which is the only reason I ever clean
she did not have to use the restroom
I offered them to her six or seven times
all is not lost
it was nice for me to have a clean bathroom for a change