Sketch Pad Poems | Examples

I am such a pig

two milky way wrappers
how long have they been sitting here?
the paint has worn off the c and the v on this keyboard
wedged between keyboard and monitor is a small roll of toilet paper
I am such a pig

there is the washing machine oxygen powder
I wondered what happened to it
three notebooks and a sketch pad are propped up next to my typing fingers
three pairs of readers lollygag around here
I am such a pig

watch out here comes the real me

I would be wearing a backpack and puppies would be hanging out of it.
Their tongues would be hanging out too, and they would be smiling.
Eight, nine, ten, eleven puppies. Because you cannot have too many.

My face would host an enormous smile.
I would proudly show the holes where teeth used to be.
To let you know that I am not vain, or socialized.

I would be carrying a sketch pad, a notebook, brushes and acrylic paints.
My clothing would be speckled and splashed with reds, greens and yellows.
My I-pads would be hidden. For I use both to cheat at word games.
I might not want people to know that.

My hair would not be brushed. I would be limping thanks to arthritis.
Dogs would be following me, guarding me, saying “this is my mama”.
I would have enough sandwiches in a bag to feed me and the pups.

small table inside my front door

Garage door opener
Ice cream carton
Pencil, erasers, pencil sharpener
Magazines
Tv remote
Gummie pills
Magic markers
Towel
Black sock
Gray sandal
Sketch pad
Twinkie wrapper
Snickers bar
Kleenexes
Washrag
Comb
Tape measure
Scissors
Toenail clippers
Green hoodie
Small table inside my front door

August Sketch Pad

Golden dewdrop spread on gray window sill,
warm rays from the summer sunburst at will,
sprightly cheep from high flier mourning bird,
pulsating heart aroused by what I
heard

Gorgeous is an adjective for viewing,
colors on an august sketch pad brewing,
vivid  blooms awash in swaying basket,
visual trinkets stored in made up  casket

Brown leafs strewn that capture noonday wonder,
elevate a world from going under,
pathway to a peak or slope’s dream patch,
eternal beauty words can never match

Heaven at my doorstep every second,
fantastic bliss around me now beckoned,
mountains, valleys, trickling streams, verges,
a burgeoning green world city surges

Rainbow fountain mesmerizing stunned throng,
eye catcher sprinkled hue a bright mist prong,
gorgeous is that gift wrapped term used above,
blue skyline veil from brushstroke that I wove

When I Was Young

Darkness, shadows, raining, storming.

I liked to pretend I perfectly crafted these bleak, tired ideas.

When I was a stupid kid.

As if no one has ever drawn a picture in pencil, so that there is no color.

As if there is no piece of art that is gray with rain in the background that anyone would care about.

I guess I just like to recycle the same, boring concepts.

Just letting my mind tumble, over and over.

Letting each iteration wear me out slightly more each time.

Drawing more lazily and sloppily with time.

So they will realize that I’m suffering, but in a cool new way.

But no.

The teacher always picks the drawings with a sun in the corner and smiling families. 

Those are the kids that everyone likes.

That’s why I always carried a sketch pad.

And never tore anything out.

Drawing Innuendo Rimas Dissolutas

Warm nights I sit drawing innuendo,
kicking my feet I hold a white sketch pad;
How in the world are you oblivious
to the soft strokes I indulge with my pen?

Look at my hands realize how they flow,
this feeling is more than a passing fad;
Honey, you take yourself too serious;
Grab me and take advantage now and then;

Oh how I long for your spontaneous;
For you see we are just bound to happen.

Liwat Rib

In 1958 we saw the end of an era.
Mused the Curtiss Wright scholar.
he told a crowd of people
that an America that didn't
trust in the newness of creativity
would see a day were only exterior machines
would be looked at as something American enough
to be bought. Standing on the Promises of Yesteryear he
saw using the brands of yesteryear as the way to
move America forward.
He talked of reinventing the way we travel.
By moving the design forward
and never looking back.
Not using the samples of yesterday: but
creating new product under a Brand Name recogniable
enough to create family oriented appeal to modern auto's..
Bringing people together in the ailenment of futuristic design.
Creating quality Auto's and Luxury Products
were people from all ages could be proud to spend and buy.
The aquistion of Parkard motor Company:
to create from the sketch pad, a product
that would rival all companies. Building both
handcrafted timepeices
and the manufacturing of
products that would set the standard for quality
across the globe. He ended his speech
saying" Packard: where have you Been!"

Hidden Gem

My sketch pad poetry describes today a hidden gem tucked away,
Entangled vines twisted throughout,
Broken tree limbs and shattered windows scattered about,
Where woodland animals now seek food each day.

When the summer sun was bright and strong,
Abundant cars always parked along,
The busy greenhouse lot that once sold blooms,
And shrubs and trees that created perfumes.

That scented the air surrounding the grounds,
Where roses, peonies and lilacs were found,
Surrounding the bricks that were once a wall,
This hidden gem now seems very small.

Poetry Is a Sketch Pad

Poetry is a sketch pad,
You can write what you feel or see,
You can pen about a single flower,
Or maybe about your pajamas that are comfy.

My sketch pad has a lone maple leaf today,
That floats in a puddle by my door,
It has lost its connection with its tree,
Each day it withers more and more.

Not long ago it was vibrant green,
Then it changed to the color red,
It once sat among thousands of scarlet shoots,
And together they made a fiery gem.

Now it waits for winter's ice and snow,
As it drifts in the well by my door,
The Autumn Blaze has spent its days,
And soon we'll have the dreaded winter phase.

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time
there was a prince
his name was Aaron

most of all
he loved to draw
he’d get his ideas
from both day and 
and night dreams
as well as trips in nature

he’d look up at the sky
and see the clouds 
and birds fly free
he’d notice all the 
wonders of the universe  

he’d scamper by the river banks
and love the waves and rocks
he’d walk through forests and
look up at the different trees
how tall they stretch and 
how their leaves have shapes

inspiration circling in the air
finding the perfect spot
he would sit and sketch
to while away the hours
and so this is the way
our wonderful Prince Aaron
would rule over creation
ink wand and sketch pad in hand
 


AP: 3rd place 2020

Posted on March 6, 2019

My Journal

Sketch pad
Curious lad
Words taste bad


Mind map
Siesta nap
Step by step


Word wit
In odd fit
Strange fine bits


Notes rhyme
In word mime
Strange new chimes


Quotes ply
A fond try
By and by


Lush lines
Salty brine
Long laughs fine


Draft nude
Thoughts feel crude
Some taste rude


Kill joy
Rowdy ploys
Blunt lines toy


Harsh blends
Simply grand
Curves break stand




Leon Enriquez
27 October 2018
Singapore

I Am Charlie

I am Charlie
Je suis Charlie


I laugh at myself
I laugh at the world
I mock you with love
I love to contemplate
I love for humanity to think
There are no limits to freedom of expression
As long as we have no hate in the heart
Let us mock the universe
In gaiety and laughter

If we learn not to take ourselves too serious
Maybe just maybe
We shall feed a few poor
Maybe an act of kindness
Maybe we shall forgive and open our hearts
Maybe one shall rejoice and clap at a daily good deed given
Maybe our kindness will rank higher than our ideals
Maybe, just maybe, a cartoon can be just that
A Cartoon

We all have different views
Different tastes
Our diversity is our beauty
We can each enjoy that which we see as art
We can each ignore, that which pleases not the eye
Free choice is golden

Cold blooded killers
Have no place in our civilization
Whoever kills in the name of the most merciful
Is a fool and an infidel
If Allah was an artist
The infidels would be caricatures on a sketch pad
To be erased from all of humanity

Yes, I am Charlie

Oil Pastels

Greasy film,
touch like silk,
glides across my sketch pad,
before it's time to have a nap,
bright, bright pastels,
etched across my nostrils,
in such fluorescent colours,
I can do no other,
oil pastels,
comes perfectly natural,
to someones naked eye,
it's time to sketch and say goodbye.

Boredom...

Looking around,
trying to find something of interest.
The clock on the wall, mocks me,
"Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock,
find something to do"
I'm trying!

No one has replied to my texts.
Nothing good on tv.
Alone in the house.

I'll count how many times,
The wallpaper pattern repeats.
I'll arrange the pens,
in order of size, biggest to smallest.
I'll arrange a box of sweets,
in groups of the same coloured wrappers.

Then a bolt of inspiration,
I'll get my sketch pad and pen,
and scribble away my boredom.

Morphing Sketch

Before bed,
she breaks each charcoal pencil tip to different lengths
and sketches a roving wonder drenched in grey
Ferns in spirals and curling such 
become a bloom of hair
to hide the eye, the knowing eye
which sees but never stays
Ribbons of darkness and light
are scratched in, in a hurry
It's getting late and night waits for no one.
Her sketch pad yells out to her from it's many pages:
"Hey - Pay attention to ME!!  I'm unfinished!"
but she stays to the task at hand with ardor.
The pages fight her at times, crinkling and pushing her to the edge.
She turns on a fan to quiet and confuse them into submission.
Then, she lights two candles:
one in licorice, the other in melon
and flickers the orange life of flame with her fingers.
Charred and smoked they sting slightly
and she turns her attention back to her work.
It will be a completed sketch tonight, she thinks, almost on the verge of dreams,
and by tomorrow, it will take life with color,
on canvas, complete.

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