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Roll out the rice paper,
And grind up the ink, -
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by Angel Lunarious 7 lines, 4 comments, on Jun 27 2:10 AM. In painting
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"She sets a mass of color of flax growing in the fields"by Rose Angel 7 lines, 6 comments, on Feb 19 10:02 PM. In Contest, Nature, Color, Painting, My own style
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Is this really who I have become?
A visage of vibrant oil -
His eyes were stuck to the pavement,
His heart glued to the floor, -
I am a rare painting
Of an artist you can't name -
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I like to imagine each morning
That God takes a paintbrush to the world -
by Kia Tenshi 22 lines, 3 comments, on Jul 25 3:00 PM 2008. In thoughts, odd, weird, mind, teenage thinking, teens, angst, painting, art
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this poem is inspired from a drawing made by my friend Shirley. a drawing in monochrome.i find my mind goes wondering
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this poem is inspired from a drawing made by my friend Shirley. a drawing in monochrome.i find my mind goes wondering
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The sliding of my fingers, Along the length of the canvas...
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a dead winter withered
swept upon your brush -
Paint, thick and muddy,
rolled down the canvas of my skin, -
Dawn's rain rests upon the muddy earthly streets outside
Long ocean-wave Puddles painted with ambient poetry by the Billiard and Saloon's -
We walked along the streets of gaye old Paris.
The impressionistic colors of time cradled our feet. Our hearts set aflutter like butterfli -
Words Stenciled / Red Palette Seams / Structure Tainted / Canvas Screams /by Transcend All 24 lines, 1 comment, on Jul 5 3:41 AM 2007. In An Artist Mind, Pain, Thoughts, Painting, Life
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Words Stenciled / Red Pallete Seams / Structure Tainted / Canvas Screams /by Transcend All 3 lines, 4 comments, on Jul 5 3:08 AM 2007. In An Artist Mind, Pain, Thoughts, Painting, Life
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Tangerine pink globe
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Pulled out of precious pieces as petals of innocence / I await your complicate simplicity written onto me. / A slice of moon between your teeth, / Creativity tunneled beneath the mainstream, / Of visage deceiving
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On the white canvas of ideas I pictured her as a fairy, / The most beautiful woman. It would be shame if I didn’t paint her. / I had met he
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Abandoned cities mirage across the horizon / A watermark, the last trace of a motion / Smears through the vision in the height / Of a shaking fever; / Of the heat which holds your overalls / Eating poor negl
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Watch closely.
Her hands move across the canvas,
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