Strokes Poems - Poems about Strokes

Reading past writings With lack of recognition.. What prompted the rising Of those words..? Many seem strange indeed Words rising and gone Life and death in the Strokes of the keys......

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I woke trembling on the threshold of dawn as dappled sunlight through my window shone Upon my primed canvas there had been drawn a masculine image with finely chiseled cheekbones What virile fantasy had I born while in flight for my hand to have created such a dashing face In stippled darkness of my dream-filled night,...

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In October, I feel a nip in the air, that frosts my breath like contrails of smoke; as gilded leaves start falling from the trees. Overhead, a gaggle of honking geese are fleeing Winter's approach; joining the songbirds that have migrated south. The leaves are painted in thick, bold strokes of yellow, scarlet, fuchsia, gold and orange; inked by Jack Frost, and...

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Each brush stroke on the canvas marks a moment in time the artist left behind. A fragment of thought expressed in a line, a trace, a spot, a dab, a splash, a splotch, a daub by palette knife impasto. The brush a fleeting hand expressing the artists shade and light, color and flare, texture and shape in composition. It marks the way the artist...

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Brush Strokes … The canvas of fate, Wind strokes of the brush create a straight. The vibrant hues blend seamlessly strait, Each stroke represents a chapter of my state. An empty canvas representing my soul. Full of dark void and hole. Hues of the future dole, Sudden colors I've never seen before began to appear on the palete as a whole. Stopped at my...

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(Our differences are like the pieces of a puzzle called life) What does humanity want from life, it’s puzzling to know Peace signs, Daisy cutters, find Jesus in the afterglow Seek out seventy two virgins, priming fuses to blow? Come together in jannah, with a godlike libido Write painstaking poetry, devoid of human ego Kill every known disease, have a...

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At the end of the day With the chores all done, The children cleaned And put to bed. My mother sat and brushed her hair. 100 strokes of each dark strand. 'til each renewed, the brush laid down. Her hair glowed and was her crown. Her hands were worn and each did bare The many jobs her hands performed. From kneading bread, to kneeling down. Clasped...

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. ^^^ ...

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It's said there's magic to be found in the joy of innocence and giving credence to the possibility there is a paradise. I think that holds true when life's canvas is primed, ready to be painted with the skillful brush strokes of an artful hand. Life is like a painting, blending colors of autumn's leaves, soft shades of amber, sienna,...

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1.The dogma of atheist does not contain any stance (positive nor negative)about any form of incest. about pig eating,about swine soup,about fried frogs, about consensual gaang baang etcetera. 2.Moreover,most atheists do not customarily condemn the very practices that religion condemns, for example,idolatry,adultery,and homosexuality. 3.Atheists do not constitute a cohesive or powerful group. 4.They argued that as long as sex is between...

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Several soft spoken strokes grazing against the cool contented crest winsomely woven with withering white. Nurturing a newborn ambition for light. That boldly begins burning out it’s passionate pale plume of a plea . Which is always seen reaching out towards an reluctant royal reverie . Whom is too afraid to walk amongst reality ....

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Nestled woodland, leaves on line, thick, straight, and curving. Mounded upland, forms eternal, Rounded, angled, and yielding. Circled valley, meadows, fields, shapes, and pathways winding. Seasons quartered, warm and cool, rust and mustards flying. Upward outward, textured daybreak, quiet breezes low: Close encounter, canvas earth, to view, to...

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Brush strokes on paintings Is a lot like life Each one has a Different meaning Light strokes mean just wanting fun Heavy strokes mean desire to have...

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In final exams scored zero: Who drives The Cleanest Pajero; The Guys ahead of him in class Aware he is of Upper Class: Enjoying financial morning But after exams mourning... Todd could with The Law have a brush And a cop to hospital rush: Bodyguards with exploding shots, Richly paid but in agreed shorts... Wishing to be like Todd A Gross: Those who'd guessed they couldn't...

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Brush strokes The sky this afternoon had odd clouds looked like icebergs floating on pink air The seagulls took refuge on my terrace. A grey wolf with a leg of lamb scratched on the door, I let it in. when preparing the meat, the wolf left down the hall that was dimly lit I asked no question I remembered a Russian painter...

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